Angels and Werewolves
by tomhiddlest0ner
Summary: Grace Hart had been best friends with Scott McCall and Stiles Stilinski for longer than she could even remember and now, with Scott's bite, Stiles' Lydia obsession and a certain buff, hard-hearted jock looking Grace's way, what will happen with our favourite Beacon Hill's High students? Jackson/oc pairing. First in the Angels and Werewolves series!
1. Chapter 1

**This is my first Teen Wolf story - be kind, ladies and gentleman! xxx**

The night air was cool, calming to Grace Hart as she lie on her bed clad in a thick sweater and sweat pants. Her room was the perfect mixture of hot and cold at that moment and she was glad, being one of those people who was rarely at a good temperature – 'too hot' or 'too cold' were words that Stiles and Scott were constantly yelling at her for saying. Pressing her lips together, the brunette teenager flipped through her bio text book, heaving a sigh through her nose at the thought of there being school the next day. Glancing over at her clock, she noticed it was getting late – but she had to finish studying. She wanted to be right on top of bio this year since she'd failed last year, but it seemed her brain just couldn't hold the information.

"I'm so done with this," Grace mumbled to herself, finding yet another page of things she didn't understand. Scrawling messily on a paper pad, she noted which pages to come back to and which exercises to do to help her learn. She was in the middle of writing 'page 56' when a loud bang to her left where her window was pulled her from her thoughts, causing her to frown deeply and look over. Swallowing, she stood slowly from her bed and grabbed the baseball bat that she'd nicked from her brother when he left home, narrowing her eyes as she stepped toward the open window. Of course, it was likely nothing – then again, it wasn't often things went 'bump' in the night where Grace was.

Chewing her bottom lip, she walked around to get a better view at the bushes beside her window, squinting to make out any possible figures. Unexpectedly, the shape of a human jumped out at her, screaming when seeing that she was armed. Grace squeezed her eyes closed and swung the bat (weakly) and felt it collide with a body part – a shoulder, maybe – a howl of pain following.

A howl of pain that she distinctly recognized...

"Stiles?" she cried, voice shrill and green eyes shooting open as she registered that she had just hit Stiles over the shoulder with a baseball bat. "Shit, are you okay?"

Rushing forward, the brunette dropped the bat with a 'clang' on the wooden floorboards, a look of panic on her face as she pulled Stiles toward her, checking him over though there was no need. He looked up at her with his brown eyes wide before his eyebrows knitted into a frown, shrugging her off of him. "What's with the baseball bat?" he demanded, glancing at the object that was carelessly tossed to the ground. Grace fought back a laugh, shrugging her shoulders. "Do you even play baseball?" Stiles continued, reaching up to rub his shoulder.

Grace opened her mouth to question why he was here, but at that moment, her bedroom door burst open and her mother was standing in her bedroom, armed with a butcher knife that looked used. "Oh, god," Grace moaned, wrinkling her nose. "You're not trying to cook again, are you?"

Panic-stricken eyes turned to glare at her. "What is going on in here?" Clara asked, deflating when she saw Stiles. "Oh, Stiles, what in the hell are you doing?"

The teenage boy gave a meek wave, looking guiltily at his shoes. "Just checking in on Gracie," he lied, nodding his head at the floor before glancing up to check if she'd bought the lie. When she looked unconvinced, he continued. "I mean – she said that she was having trouble with, er..." he paused to glance around the room, spotting the bio text book on the ground, "...bio! She asked for my help."

Grace snorted with laughter at the idea of Stiles both studying and helping someone else study. That was a sure sign of the apocalypse if there ever was one. Giving the teenagers odd looks, Clara backed slowly out of the room, muttering under her breath, "use protection," which made both Stiles and Grace gag and cry out. The thought of them being together was horrific enough – and Clara knew that they never would, anyway.

When she had left, Grace turned to Stiles and raised an eyebrow. "So what's the deal, Stilinsky?" she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest. Stiles shoved his hands in his jacket pocket, rocking back and forth on his feet with a satisfied expression on his face.

"Dad left twenty minutes ago, they've got a bunch police officers out in the woods – someone found a body."

Grace blinked. "Really?"

With a nod, Stiles continued. "They said it was a girl, probably in her twenties... but the best part is that they only found half!"

Okay – now Grace felt like she was going to vomit. She wrinkled her nose at Stiles and shook her head violently. "Oh, no we are not going out there!"

Something told her that she didn't have a say in the matter.

* * *

A short while later, Stiles was dangling from Scott's roof as he held yet another baseball bat in his hands, and Grace stood beside the upside-down boy, thoroughly amused. "A dead body?" Scott asked, and the brunette girl rolled her eyes and sniggered slightly, just knowing that a sarcastic remark was bound to come from Stiles. Of course, the boy sighed and got down from the roof, rolling his eyes.

"No, a body of water," he snapped. "Yes, dumbass, a dead body."

"You mean like, murder?"

Stiles went through the same stuff he had when he told Grace, Scott wide-eyed and somewhat confused looking as he listened. Two joggers found her, about twenty, they're not sure who (or what) did it quite yet. "Wait, wait," Scott interrupted, waving his hands around. "If they found the body, then what are we looking for?"

"That's the best part," Stiles said, and Grace could hear the devilish tone in his voice a cheeky grin graced his lips. "They only found half of the body."

* * *

Roughly ten minutes later and the three of them were trekking through the Beacon Hills Preserve, squinting into the darkness and not really paying attention to where they were going. The leaves crunched underneath their feet and both Scott and Grace were a little confused as to why they had agreed to this. In the weak light of Stiles' torch, no one could really see anything at all. Grace tuned out as the boys talked lacrosse, finding the topic to be boring – she had never really liked that sport, though she had gone to every game just to watch Scott and Stiles on the benches. She had to be supportive – they were, after all, her best friends.

"Just out of curiosity," the girl piped up, reaching to grab her wavy hair and tie it into a bun, "which half of the body are we looking for?"

Both boys turned to look at her, Stiles with a thoughtful expression. "Huh. I didn't even think about that?"

Scott spoke next, raising his eyebrows. "And what if whoever killed the body is still out here?"

"Also didn't think about that."

Grace snorted sarcastically and rolled her eyes. "Great to know there is absolutely no possibility of me getting murdered tonight," she said, huffing slightly. Tired and bored, Grace was close to becoming the best friend from hell.

They walked for a little longer, Scott stopping every now and then for his inhaler. However, when they saw flashlights, Stiles stood up and took off, Grace and Scott running behind and slowly losing him. When they finally caught up to him, he was on the ground and quickly pulling himself up, having been found by his father and his fellow officers. Smirking, Grace from behind a tree as Stiles freaked out over the dog, and his father did not look happy. "Where are your usual partners in crime?" the sheriff asked, raising an eyebrow and glancing around.

"Scott and Grace?" Stiles exclaimed, pretending to be shocked. "They're at home studying and sleeping." But the sheriff wasn't buying it.

"Grace, Scott? You out there?" he shone his flashlight around, Grace unfortunately too late to duck behind the tree. To avoid Scott being found with her, she hunched her shoulders and walked over to the sheriff and Stiles, a guilty look on her face.

"Hello, sheriff," she greeted with a meek nod. He nodded back to her.

"Nice to see you again, kiddo," he replied, though not sounding pleased at all. Putting on her good-girl act, Grace's grimace turned to a bright-eyed smile.

"Scott really is at home," she lied to the man easily, nodding with her words. "He's such a baby, wanting to get a good night's sleep for lacrosse," she added with a snort, causing Stiles to snigger and Scott to roll his eyes from behind the tree. The sheriff sighed and shook his head.

"Come on, you two. Let's get home."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: So I decided to continue this. Grace's faceclaim – seen in the cover for the story – is Freya Mavor although Grace is a brunette. Enjoy the chapter, read and review please!**

* * *

Grace had never been a fan of school. As her alarm buzzed annoyingly in her ear, she frowned and buried her head into her pillow, willing the early morning sun away. She was exhausted from last night's events and absolutely terrified of the idea of there being a murderer in their quaint little town. After ten minutes of morning talk-back radio, the brunette girl raised her head and rubbed her temples. Sure enough, she could glance at her full-length mirror and see the heavy, dark bags around her eyes. _God damn Stiles Stilinksy,_ she thought to herself, throwing back her covers and flinging her legs over the side of the bed.

She padded across the floorboards and over to her mirror, inspecting her face. She'd had a small breakout on her forehead thought it was hidden by the freckles that dotted the sun-kissed skin of the girl's face. Although Grace had never been a huge fan of them, she was sure glad she'd spent all that time in the sun now doing her running routines through the forest – it had certainly improved her body, too. Instead of being the long-legged, muffin-topped, chubby-cheeked kid she used to be, she'd worked hard and lost the weight she didn't need. "You're too skinny," her mother would say, but she brushed the comment off with a laugh. Would she be able to run her trail through the forest anymore now that half a body was found? She frowned slightly and wondered if there was any place anywhere near here that was anywhere close to as peaceful as the forest was. It was highly unlikely.

Puckering her lips in thought, Grace walked over to her cupboards, leafing through the hanging clothes for something to wear that day. The weather was warm though not overly hot and she cursed herself for being a style-Nazi and not actually _liking _dressing in jeans and a baby tee. Eventually, the brunette picked out a white button down shirt with a studded collar tucked into a red tartan skirt; this, paired with black tights and a denim jacket, was the perfect outfit. She sighed as she glanced at her over-stocked shoe rack. "The shoes are always the hardest damn part," she muttered, reaching over and grabbing a pair of combat boots. Running a comb through her hair and fluffing it slightly, Grace was ready for the day. She needn't bother with make-up – she certainly wasn't out to impress anyone... no one in Beacon Hills had really caught her fancy, save for the schoolgirl crush she'd had on Scott years ago when she was eleven. The thought made her snort with laughter.

Grabbing her bag and shoving her purse inside, Grace called a 'goodbye' to her mother and walked into the pleasantly comfortable air of the morning, shoving her bag into the basket on the front of her bike before mounting and setting off toward Beacon Hills High. Oh, the joys of living just minutes away from Hell.

* * *

She arrived at school just in time to see Scott locking up his own bike. Walking her rusted junk-on-wheels over to him, she nudged him with her arm. "How was walking home alone last night, Scotty boy?" Grace chuckled, bending to fasten her bike lock around the tire of her bike and the metal of the rack. Scott scoffed playfully at her, rolling his eyes. He opened his mouth to respond, though he was cut off by a slamming car door. Grace glanced behind Scott, eyeing up the silver Porsche and biting her lip from laughing as Jackson stepped out, frowning at Scott. His car door was millimetres from Scott's bike.

"Watch the paint," Jackson sneered, and Scott rolled his eyes. Grace snorted.

"I'm sure you have enough money to buy another five Porsche's, Jackson. I hardly think a scrape on the paint that _your_ bad driving caused would matter."

He stared at her for a second before frowning deeply. "Whatever." With that, Jackson turned and walked away. Behind him, Grace scrunched up her face and stuck her tongue out at his disappearing frame, but when she saw Lydia race up to him and peck his cheek, a pang of jealousy hit home. Scott, seeing the change in her expression, nudged her.

"Are you okay? You don't..." he glanced back at Jackson wearily. "You don't have a thing for him, do you?" Grace just about laughed at that.

"Gross. I'd rather play tonsil-tennis with my hand." Grace gave a shrug, tearing her eyes away from the couple. "It'd just be nice to have what they have, y'know? But hey, it's whatever."

Scott nodded and said nothing. _It's whatever_ was basically Grace's way of fully closing off any conversation about her, and he knew full well not to push the matter. She'd end up biting his head off, and not metaphorically. Glancing up, Grace saw Stiles coming their way, jumping rather excitedly around after just being ignored by Lydia. Grace couldn't help a smile at his attitude toward the girl who wanted nothing to do with him. "Hey, guys," Stiles greeted, grinning. His eyes landed on Scott. "Dude, what happened to you last night? Did you get home okay?"

"Actually..."

Both Grace and Stiles frowned as Scott tugged up his t-shirt, showing a huge bandage that covered most of his left side. "I got bitten by something... I think it was a wolf. I heard it."

"There haven't been wolves in Beacon Hills for years, Scott," Grace said softly, slightly concerned and incredibly worried. Not to mention the terror inside her. "Did you go to a doctor?"

Scott shook his head. "I bandaged it myself."

"Can I see it?" Stiles asked, reaching for the bandage. Scott swatted his hand away and Grace laughed.

"No, you can't! Don't touch it, idiot."

Stiles opened his mouth to respond when the bell signalling home-room cut him off. Grace saw him curse and chuckled, shouldering her bag and heading off toward homeroom.

* * *

The first day was always the best day.

Grace had a theory – the way your subject teacher acted on the first day would definitely tip you off to how they'd act during the year and she'd won lucky with most of hers. A special favourite was Mr Roberts, her media teacher. He was young and hip and filled with incredible ideas about basically everything and Grace admired how easy it was for him to talk and joke with their class. By the time he'd finished introducing himself (he was from California, a dead give-away by the blonde hair and he had three sisters, loved music and used to have dread-locks. He wanted to be a rock star at one point, too. But who didn't?) Grace was bright red and laughing. He was awesome and she would love year.

The only bad thing about this class was Debbie Downer in the corner. And by Debbie Downer, Grace meant Jackson Whitmore. He was sighing, rubbing his temples with his long, slender fingers and allowing his eyes to flutter closed. Grace bit her lip. If he wasn't such an ass, Jackson had real potential to be an attractive guy. He was smart, Grace knew that much – he'd been in her AP English last year and all she and he had done all year was battle for the highest percentage for their grades. Grace had won by 1.5 percent, increasing Jackson's apparent hatred for her. When he glanced up at her, locking eyes with her, she tore her gaze away and blushed furiously. She hated being caught staring.

"Alright," Mr Roberts said cheerfully, clapping his hands together with a big smile. He reminded Grace of Ezra Fitz from _Pretty Little Liars._ Thank god she'd never been into older men or she'd have been drooling. "I'm setting you your first assignments!" Roberts sounded over-eager about this and the class groaned, but he remained positive. "It's a cool one guys, really. I promise. Firstly, I need you all to write your names down on a small piece of paper and place it in his hat." With that, he presented a magician-like top hat, chuckling. "This is how we'll pick your partners."

Grace could practically hear everyone inwardly groan at that, but she didn't really mind. None of her close friends were in this media class and honestly, she loved meeting new people. She wrote _Grace Hart_ in neat writing, drawing a small heart beside her last name and smiling as she placed it into the teacher's hat. The heart had been what made her name _hers_ since third grade.

When the class had finished their names and placed them in the hat, Mr Roberts began picking names at random, two at a time, placing the two people together. "Alice is with Tony," he said, writing it down in his book. "Ryan and Nathan, you two are together." Grace zoned out as he read out the couples, not even realising that hers and one other persons were the last in the hat until the teacher said so. "Alright, Grace Hart... you're with Jackson Whitmore."

Her stomach dropped. _Jackson Whitmore._ Suddenly, Grace wasn't all for being friendly anymore.


	3. Chapter 3

Grace could remember the first time she had actually met Jackson Whittemore. It was their eighth grade in junior high and he was just as gorgeous though not as big-headed and dickish. He'd been so kind to her, smiling as he held the door open for the tiny fourteen year old Grace. She had smiled and tucked a wayward curl behind her ear, the tiniest of blushes colouring her cheeks. It was the first time a boy had seemed interested in her, really, and the feeling made her think she was on cloud nine – all the other girls had boyfriends her age and it was the cool thing to do. Grace and Jackson had started talking online almost every day, IM'ing back and forth and smiling shyly at each other in classes. It had been months of them getting to know each other, telling secrets and walking home together. But, of course, Lydia had come along in all her strawberry blonde beauty before anything had ever really happened and stolen him from under Grace's nose.

Then, he'd turned into a jerk in a matter of weeks. The boy who used to hold the door open became the boy who tripped you in the halls, put bubblegum in your hair and thumb-tacked your chair. Grace would never forgive Lydia for ruining someone with so much potential – especially since she'd never been interested in another boy since then. But hey, she was older now and there was no point in dwelling on what Jackson could have been. It was what he was _now_ that mattered, and that was a stuck-up, snobby rich kid with a totally perfect girlfriend. Grace glanced back at Jackson, his expression unreadable though he almost looked... _relieved. _No, he was probably fuming about being stuck with her.

"Alright," Mr Roberts said, gesturing for the class to quiet. "Go sit by your partners and I'll explain the assignment."

Looking up, Grace could see that Amelia was waiting to take her seat so that she could sit beside Thomas and she sighed, grabbing her tote bag and dragging herself over to Jackson. Carelessly, she flopped into the seat beside him and crossed her legs over, her fingernails suddenly a lot more interesting than anything else. After a moment of silence, Jackson spoke, leaning close to Grace. She shifted uncomfortably. "You know, it's pretty funny how two people who hate each other get stuck together, don't you think?" He was being ironic. Grace scoffed, shaking her head. A curl fell into her face and she huffed it away.

"No, I don't think."

Jackson smirked, settling back into his chair. _Douche, _Grace thought, pursing her lips as Roberts began explaining the assignment.

"So I know this is a media class, but there are two parts to this assignment, alright? The first part is a writing task – you and your partner need to write the storyline for a movie. It doesn't have to be more than three paragraphs, but it needs to be decent. And because I already doubt your creativity..." the teacher paused to chuckle playfully, "I don't mind if it's similar to some other movies. But don't just take the description for your favourite movie. Mix it up, do some gender-swapping, mix a few movies together. There needs to be some element of originality in your storyline."

The teacher paused, letting it sink in. Tom raised his hand. "What's the second part?" he asked, and Mr Roberts grinned.

"That's where the media part comes in. The second part of this assignment is to film a trailer for this movie. It needs to be believable and well-done, I don't want any seventh grade crap up in here. There are heaps of different ways that trailers are made, so watch some that are done in the same way and figure out how you're going to do yours. There needs to be themes conveyed in the trailer, too. Uh..." he stopped, furrowing his brows in thought before he turned to write on the board. In messy scrawl, he wrote:

_Romance, Horror, Thriller, Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Adventure, Drama, Family, Fantasy, Parody, and Western._

"So I think these are the most popular genres, really, and I want your movie trailers and storylines to involve at least two, but you can have as many as you want. Just don't have too many, because then you end up with crime-fighting cowboy aliens falling in love and losing their memories. And it gets messy. Don't forget to use music, writing, quotes, all that jazz in the trailer. And make it relevant. Don't have some heartfelt storyline with _Big Booty Bitches_ playing in the background, because it's tacky. That actually happened once, really." He glanced at the clock, finding there was only fifteen minutes left of the lesson, and nodded. "You can have the rest of the lesson to begin your brainstorming, okay? And homework tonight is brainstorming, too. Alone or together. IM each other or something, I don't know."

Taking a breath, Grace glanced at Jackson and chewed the inside of her cheek. "So I'm guessing you have the mental ability of a two year old."

He snorted and rolled his eyes. "Please. I bet I could come up with a storyline doubly better than yours."

"Yeah, right, Whittemore," she scoffed. "What genres were you thinking of using, anyways? Please don't say action, I might have to shoot you."

"Like you know how to work a gun."

"I'd learn just to shoot you."

"Yeah, right," Jackson snorted, shaking his head. He gave a thoughtful hum, eyebrows furrowing in concentration as he looked away from her and at the whiteboard. "I don't know which to choose."

"What if we choose three or four songs and combine them to tell a story? The genres pick themselves." Grace asked, humming softly.

Jackson looked at her for a moment as though pleasantly surprised by her thoughts. He blinked. "That's not a half-bad idea," he admitted, and she almost laughed at the regret in his tone. "Can I have your number so I can call you after school? We can talk about it more." Grace glanced up at the clock. The lesson was almost over and she hadn't even noticed that they'd been bickering back and forth for so long. She hesitated, then tore some paper from the corner of her notebook and wrote her number in neat scrawl. As she wrote her name above it, she left out the small heart next to her last name, afraid that he'd think her stupid – or worse, that she was hitting on him. She almost gagged at the thought.

"Right, so I'll call you tonight," Jackson said with a nod. Grace smiled in response though it didn't quite reach her eyes. Something was ticking inside her and she wasn't quite sure what. The bell cut off her thoughts and she grabbed her books, trying not to notice how slender and graceful Jackson's fingers were as he grabbed his own books from the desk.

* * *

"I just want to see it!"

Grace glanced up from her plate of tater tots, amusement on her features. "Stiles, it'll get infected if he doesn't keep the bandage over it. And besides, I want to enjoy my tots, okay?"

"I bet you'll enjoy those extra pounds on your thighs, too," came a muttered response. Grace glanced over at Lydia, noticing the leafy green salad that made the brunette inwardly wince. The new girl sitting beside Lydia – was it Allison? – glanced somewhat awkwardly at Grace as though apologising for her new friends behaviour. Grace shrugged her shoulders. Jackson said nothing as he sat beside his girlfriend, most likely pretending to have not noticed as he texted away.

"Did you know that tape worm is found on the surfaces of uncooked vegetables and fruits, Lydia?" Grace asked innocently, smiling warmly at the girl. "I learned that today in biology."

Stiles glanced at her quizzically. "Did we learn that?" Scott nudged Stiles quiet and Lydia looked down at her salad, frowning as she reached out and delicately pushed the salad away, mumbling about how she wasn't all that hungry anymore. Grace grinned and popped another tot into her mouth as Jackson tried not to make it obvious that he had scooted away from Lydia slightly.

Stifling a yawn, Grace stood up. "I'm gonna go. I don't feel well. I'll see you guys later."

Jackson glanced up, practically oblivious to the clingy girlfriend demanding attention beside him. He almost smiled. "So I'll call you later, then?"

Grace smiled tightly and nodded her head, her cheeks turning a slight shade of pink. Suddenly, she was thankful for the colour-hiding freckles on her cheeks and nose. "Yeah, cool," she replied, trying to sound nonchalant though the glare Lydia was giving her made her heart jump into her throat. Or was that the idea of Jackson calling her? He'd said that all those years ago only for Grace to see him with Lydia the next day, so she wouldn't get her hopes up. Besides, he was taken... she coughed, running her hand through her hair and turning to walk away, bag on her shoulder. Behind her, she heard Lydia ask why Jackson would be calling Grace. Stiles and Scott were confused, too, though they said nothing but stare dumbly at Grace's back.

"Aren't I allowed to call my friends anymore?" Jackson asked venomously, catching Lydia off-guard. She blinked and Stiles just about choked on his Mexican food.

"You guys are friends? Since when?"

Jackson rolled his eyes, giving no answer.


	4. Chapter 4

That night, Grace sat in her room on her bed, blankets galore rapped around her as she went through her iPod to find some songs for her and Jackson's assignment. Although she wasn't particularly thrilled about her partner, music and film were probably her favourite things and being able to work with them made her excited and the filming was especially exciting for her. On a piece of paper, she'd made three columns – one for beginning, one for middle and one for end. She really, really wanted to plan this assignment well. Her eyebrows were furrowed in concentration when her phone buzzed beside her and she sighed, leaning over to grab it. "Hello?"

"Grace, its Jackson."

"Oh."

She wasn't really sure what else to say and she silently cursed herself for being such an idiot. A moment later, Jackson spoke again. "Can I come over?" he asked, his voice a lot softer than it usually was. Was that _kindness_ Grace detected? She almost snorted at the thought, but kept her laughter at bay for the sake of not starting a fight.

"I guess so," she answered. Was this about the assignment? It had to be.

"Great, I'm outside now. I'm coming to the window."

Blinking, the brunette hung up the phone and stared blankly at the window that Stiles had come through the previous night. Did nobody use doors anymore? She flung the covers off of her body, the cool night air hitting her bare legs harshly. Looking down, Grace realised… she _was pant-less._ Cursing loudly, she could hear Jackson on the balcony outside of her window. Her house was a two-storey Victorian though the doors on the balcony were always locked since Grace had lost the key. She looked around her room in panic before down at her childish pink polka dotted undies. The window slid open. "Does Stiles do that every n…" he trailed off, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion at Grace standing before him in her underwear. His eyes didn't leave her frame.

"Jackson!" she shrieked, grabbing at one of the thinner blankets on her bed. Almost tripping over the blanket, she managed to get it wrapped around her waist. She blew a piece of hair from her face, unamused, and her freckles couldn't hide the bright red blush that was colouring her cheeks. "Shit."

The male gave a slight chuckle; amusement on his features as he shrugged off the bag on his back, setting it beside Grace's matching beanbags. "You wear polka dot underwear and have _beanbags _in your room. Now who has the mentality of a two year old, huh?" Grace rolled her eyes, though she was smiling. His quip held no venom like it usually did and the change was nice. Was it to do with the fact that he wasn't around Lydia or his lacrosse friends? Those air-head jocks thought they were the kings of the school, but maybe Jackson was more intelligent than that.

Then again, he was Jackson Whittemore and that was highly unlikely.

Tying the blanket around her waist, Grace reached into her wardrobe and pulled out a pair of baggy sweatpants. Managing to slip them on without Jackson seeing anything else, she removed the blanket and smirked at him. "That's pure talent right there," she said with a nod. Jackson just chuckled and shook his head, moving to sit on one of the beanbags before reaching to leaf through his bag, pulling out a book, a pen and his own notepad.

"So we should probably start this, yeah?" he asked. Grace unwillingly felt her stomach plummet slightly. He _was_ just here to work on the assignment. But it wasn't due for ages… she shook her head, sighing softly under her breath as she grabbed her things from her bed and plopped herself beside Jackson. "What kind of music do you listen to anyway? Because we can't use Hi-5 and the Wiggles in our trailer." His tone was teasing, but Grace rolled her eyes and shook her head.

"I was thinking we choose two songs for our two lead characters, right, and combine those two songs to write their stories. Then we combine the two main characters and make a few changes to their stories to make them fit each other. And voilà, we have our storyline. We should also set a song for their relationship, and if you want we can find some way to shove some horror and thriller in there…" she trailed off when she noticed his gaze on her, flushing. _Why did she do that so much?!_

Jackson stared at her for a second, looking as though he was confused before he said, "How much have you been thinking about this? We're like, ahead of everyone just because of your thinking."

The brunette chuckled, shaking her head. "I really like this assignment, that's all. It's really great. I like being creative."

He nodded, reaching down and unlocking his iPod, scrolling through songs before he smirked, eyeing up Grace's iPod dock beside her bed. "I have a song that'd be great," he said, his tone cheeky as he stood up and walked over, Grace curiously following him though he insisted that she couldn't see until the song played. He pressed play and after the first few bars, Grace burst out laughing. "_Ms New Booty_?"

Looking like a dork, Jackson swayed his hips, navigating toward Grace. Was he having _fun?_ He even shocked himself a little. But he liked being around Grace, she was cool, careless… Lydia would just scoff at him and tell him to stop being an idiot. But, of course, it was his own fault they'd stopped talking all those years ago anyways. Did he want to fix that, or were they really just partners for this assignment? He'd know her – _really _known her – for years, because she was the Grace that he still remembered from junior high. But he'd changed so much that it was impossible that she still knew him. Was it so bad of him to want to reconnect? He missed _fun_.

Grace, on the other hand, was weary. She was worried about herself, worried that she'd fall for him again like she had years ago. He was still with Lydia, but there was always some dis-function in her brain that would lead her to believe that Jackson wanted her. Why had he called her his friend at the lunch table earlier? Why was he actually being nice to her, dancing like an idiot in her room? This was changing too quickly for her. She stopped mid-turn and tore her hand away from Jackson's and his lopsided grin fell. Just this morning, he had given her the most venomous look she'd ever seen in her life. Why was he here?

"I think you should go," Grace said, reaching to turn off _Ms New Booty_ and hand Jackson's iPod back to him. "It's getting late."

Glancing at the clock, Jackson frowned. It was only eight pm. "What about the project."

"You said yourself; we're basically ahead of everyone anyways. We'll finish it tomorrow in class."

Confused and slightly irritated, Jackson scooped his things back into his bag, not bothering with a 'goodbye' as he used the door this time. Grace ran a hand through her hair, following him downstairs as a guilty feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. Padding down the stairs, she reached him just as he was walking out the front door toward his Porsche. Grace almost laughed at the sight of the Porsche in her driveway – it made them look as loaded as the Whittemore family. They certainly were not. Chewing her lip, Grace avoided Jackson's eye as he turned around to meet her gaze, annoyance on his features.

It kind of stung, really, though Jackson wouldn't admit it. He was trying to be nice and got kicked out of her house. That really sucked. He reached up, running his slender fingers through his hair and looking at Grace expectantly. She glanced up, brown eyes wide with worry. "I didn't mean to upset you," she mumbled. Really, she hadn't, but something inside her just refused to cooperate with her mind. "I just really need an early night. I need to go for a run in the morning, work of those tots that Lydia hates so much."

She hadn't meant to sound so hateful toward herself, but the tone of her voice almost surprised Jackson. Almost… he'd used to tone on himself many a time. Shaking his head, the teenager readjusted his bag on his back, feeling slightly awkward. "Don't listen to Lydia, she's a health nut. You have nothing to worry about, she's just insane." His voice was laced with such distaste that it confused Grace.

"Why are you with her, then?" she asked before she could stop herself. Jackson frowned.

"I don't think that's any of your business."

Grace snorted. "Actually, I think it is, y'know, considering you basically walked all over me in your stupid lacrosse spiked shoes. Way to make a girl feel special."

He frowned even deeper, anger setting inside him. "That was years ago, Grace, aren't you over me yet? That's pathetic."

The brunette blinked at his tone, her features contorting with anger. "You know what's pathetic, Jackson? How stereotypical you are. Everybody knows you're going to marry Lydia, become some washed-up business man and have like, ten thousand children. And Lydia's going to become a fat, bitchy soccer mom. You're both going to end up losers and everybody knows it."

Okay, so that was nastier than she'd expected. But she was _angry_ and Grace had always had trouble controlling what she said and did under anger. Jackson said nothing, just sneered in her direction before turning around and walking toward his car. In Grace's books, they were done. Their relationship would remain completely professional until this stupid assignment was over.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Not much Jackson in this chapter, but stay tuned. Also thank you so much to anyone who's reviewed, it keeps me going! :)**

* * *

As soon as Jackson had left, Grace threw a sweater on, grabbing her phone and keys before sliding open her window. Descending the wall, she dropped down about a foot above the ground, feeling the hard grass beneath her slippered feet. Okay, maybe her attire wasn't the best for a night roam around her town, but there was an aching in her chest and she needed a distraction. Of course, there was the option of calling Jackson and apologising for what she'd said, but the stubborn gene she had told her that she'd done nothing wrong – there was no need for her to apologise when Jackson had been so harsh over nothing. And then there was the fact that he was her junior high crush who hadn't liked her back.

But she wasn't bitter.

In fact, until just today, Grace hadn't thought positively of Jackson Whittemore at all. For the past three years he'd been the head-full-of-rocks asshole jock that she'd come to known him as and not the boy that had once told her all his secrets and she him. She sighed, grabbing her bike from in the driveway and rolling it down until she hit the road. With the moonlight on her back and the dim yellow of the streetlamps guiding her, Grace pedalled as fast as she could to Scott's house. When she arrived, most of the lights were turned off despite how early it was. She chewed her bottom lip and parked her bike on the grass of their front lawn, heading to the front door. She raised her hand to knock, but the door opened before she had the chance. Scott grinned at her and she gave him a confused look. "How did you know I was here?" she asked, but Scott just beamed at her.

Scott was excited about his new-found abilities. Stiles' voice still lingered in the back of his mind, though, and he swallowed back the doubt and kept the grin on his face. "Come in, hurry," he ordered, and Grace obliged, stepping into his home.

The McCall family were a lot cleaner than Grace and her mother and the brunette hadn't ever really liked being in there. It made her slightly insecure. Scott, meanwhile, was bouncing enthusiastically as he led Grace into his room, closing the door quietly behind them. "Today was like, the best day," he started, and Grace laughed. He looked so excited, she couldn't help but grin despite the terrible day she'd had. Scott brushed his hair from his eyes, sitting down beside Grace as he began to tell her of all the things that had happen. His lacrosse practice had gone amazingly, he said, and he'd even scored a date with Allison this Friday for the party Lydia had invited her too. Grace and Stiles were more than welcome to tag along as plus ones, apparently. Oh, not to mention that Scott was now able to see, hear and smell things that he shouldn't actually be able to see hear and smell.

"And I went to check my bite this afternoon after I'd been out with Stiles and there's nothing there anymore! No wound, scars or anything. Isn't that crazy?"

Grace smirked. "Ooh, maybe you're a werewolf."

An expression of worry crossed Scott's features. "That's what Stiles said," he mumbled, frowning slightly. "But it can't be true, can it?"

Rolling her brown eyes, Grace chuckled. "No, dork, it can't be possible. It's probably just the antiseptic or something you used," she offered, shrugging her shoulders. "Whatever it is, you're not gonna turn into a dog Friday night, alright? Besides, you've got a date with the new girl. When did that happen, anyways?"

"About an hour ago," Scott chuckled.

"Nice one, McCall."

"Now all we have to do is get Stiles with Lydia and you with… someone. Then everyone will be happy."

Grace snorted, shaking her head. "Uh, no thanks, Scott, I'll pass. The guys in this town are about as appetizing as the Grinch."

Scott feigned a wounded expression. "That hurts."

The brunette beside him laughed lightly and shook her head. Talking with Scott always made her feel better despite the fact that it had just been a casual conversation about his day. By the time that ten thirty had rolled around, Grace was yawning after having told Scott about her own day – leaving the details of Jackson out, of course. The last thing she needed was Scott and Stiles thinking that she actually liked the air-head known as Jackson Whittemore. Rubbing her eyes with the sleeves of her sweater, Grace stifled another yawn. "I should go, Scotty," she murmured, standing from his bed. Her leg prickled with pins-and-needles. "It's getting late. I have to be up early tomorrow for a run."

"See you tomorrow, Gracie. And try not to ignore me all day again," he added with a teasing smile. She laughed, gave him a hug and padded downstairs, waving to Ms McCall as she left the house.

* * *

The morning air smelled of dew and leaves as Grace jogged through the forest, her mind blank as she shoved out all the previous day's worries and focused solely on her jog. Despite the fact that it was still early September, the cool air was coming on harshly this year and though she was running quite fast, Grace could feel a cold chill running down her spine. Her arms had goose-bumps up and down the tan skin and she was barely even sweating. With her iPod playing Fall Out Boy's greatest hits, she was content being alone. Her heart pumping and mind calmed, she returned to her car and bent over, strands of hair falling from the high ponytail and tickling her face. Grace placed her palms on her knees, trying to regain her breathing before she pulled her keys from the small pocket in her tight yoga pants. The temptation to pull her exercise tank off and let the cool air hit the places that were hidden was overwhelming, but the feeling of being watched suddenly hit her and she glanced around, frowning as she saw nothing but trees. _Huh, weird._

Climbing into the car, Grace reached back and made sure she had her bag. There was no sense in her going home now – school started in an hour and besides, she wanted to get ahead in her assignment with Jackson – and she'd be able to shower and change in the women's change rooms. Puffing out her cheeks, the girl started her run-down, two-door car and pulled off the side of the road where the running tracks began, heading toward school.

When she arrived, the halls were bare though she could hear some male voices in what seemed to be a one-sided argument. "Where do you get your juice?" a voice demanded, and Grace recognised Jackson's voice immediately.

"My mom does the grocery shopping," was the other voice's – Scott's – reply, and Grace just about burst out laughing. Her friend was so clueless it was almost sad. They were standing just outside the male locker rooms, Jackson standing threateningly close to Scott. As Grace rounded the corner, an eyebrow raised as she came closer, both Scott and Jackson turned to look at her. Her pace slowed as she neared them and Jackson turned back to Scott, his voice low and threatening.

"I'm going to find out what's going on with you, McCall, no matter how long it takes."

With that, he slammed his fist against the locker beside Scott's head and trudged away without a second glance at Grace. She hated to admit that it stung slightly. "What was that about?" she asked Scott, frowning at the descending figure until he disappeared into the change rooms.

"He thinks I'm on steroids," Scott muttered, frowning. "I would never do drugs."

Snorting, Grace rolled her eyes. "Ignore him, Scott. He's really not worth it. I need to go shower. I'll see you in homeroom, okay?"

With that, she turned and left Scott alone at the lockers, pushing open the female locker room doors. Already she had a headache, the confrontation she witnessed between her best friend and ex-friend causing her head to throb. It was too early for this, way too early. Turning on the hot water in a shower cubical, Grace sat her bag down on the bench on the wall of the cubical, grabbing out her towel and setting it beside the bag. Quickly she tugged her exercise clothes and shoved them in the bag, letting the hot water scald her skin bright red. She was way too stressed for anything else to bother her today.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, followed and favorited this story! I update so quickly because I have so much writing time and I really like this story so far. Hopefully I don't hit a null. /touches wood.**

**Also, I hope I'm not making Jackson too OOC. There's going to be some touching on the relationship that Grace and Jackson had before Lydia came along for all you curious ones out there, too, so stay tuned. I might upload that either tonight or tomorrow morning. ENJOY! **

* * *

The day had passed by quickly for Grace, that for which she was very thankful. She wasn't sure why, but the past few days had made her feel like she'd been pulled into a void of crappy moods and angry people. Stiles had been weirdly on edge though Grace wasn't entirely sure why – he didn't really believe that werewolf stuff, did he? It was impossible. They were in the twenty-first century, for god's sake! But nevertheless, she went to his house that afternoon after school – after Scott made first line – and listened to him get all jittery about the concept of Scott being a werewolf. She would admit that, for a second, Stiles had her convinced. But it was _impossible,_ and her mind was planted firmly in that believe.

Stiles was hunched over at his computer, mumbling to nobody in particular when a knock at his door caused both Grace and he to jump, glancing up. Stiles flipped out, closing his laptop and making sure he looked presentable before opening the door, only to find a grinning Scott. He cursed at him, shaking his head. "Get in here," he demanded, glad that Scott had arrived. "You've got to see this."

The other teenage boy followed Stiles into the room and Grace raised a brow at them both before going back to her very unexciting game of Angry Birds on her phone. She blocked out Stiles' crazy theories and Scott's incredibly bored-sounding replies until both their voices were raised. Glancing up, she felt an edge of panic settle in her mind and she watched them both closely, afraid that things would get out of hand. When Stiles lunged forward for Scott's phone trying to cancel the date, Grace pushed back against the wall and watched with wide-eyes.

She _probably_ should have done something to stop what was going on way before Stiles was shoved against the wall. Scott held him there, practically growling at him before he punched the wall beside Stiles' head. Observing this, Grace quickly stood and went over to Scott's side, placing a hand on his arm and gently tugging him back. "Come on, Scott, don't be stupid."

"I'm the one being stupid?" he exclaimed, frowning as he turned to Grace. There was an air of anger that she'd never experienced around Scott before and it frightened her. He sneered. "I have to go pick up Allison now, but thanks for trying to ruin the best things I have going right now." With that, he turned, grabbed his bag and pocketed his phone before leaving, slamming the bedroom door behind him.

Grace knew he didn't mean it, and she knew it was the anger talking, but what he had said had hurt – and she'd barely done anything! Sighing shakily, she sat back down on Scott's bed. "We have to go to that party tonight," she mumbled, despite how badly she wanted to go home and curl into a ball with her Thor plush toy. Stiles nodded, grabbing a jacket and his keys.

"I'm ready," he said, and Grace stared at him for a moment.

"I need to go home and get ready."

Blinking, Stiles frowned. "Why?"

"Because I'm not going to a party in the same clothes I wore to school. Hanging out with you and Scott is enough social suicide as it is," she teased, and Stiles rolled his eyes.

"Alright, fine. Let's go."

* * *

An hour and three wrong outfits later, Grace had finally decided to just go with a casual look to the party. Hell, it was thrown by Beacon High's finest, she was pretty sure they'd already judged her enough to last a life time. She went with a pair of dark maroon skinny jeans and black studded heels, throwing on her much-loved and totally overworn Blink-182 tank that was probably three sizes too big for her. She'd bought it in her chubby-cheeks-and-pig-tail days. Grabbing a small handbag, she shoved her keys and phone inside.

When they arrived, the party was in full swing. She looked around for any familiar faces but found no-one that she really knew well enough to stand with, and Stiles was clicking away at his phone. "Are you still reading about that werewolf crap?" Grace asked, and Stiles nodded, which made the brunette wrinkle her freckled nose. "Are you serious, Stiles? No wonder Scott got so mad at you. Werewolves do not exist, okay?"

But at that moment, Stiles looked up and across to see Scott and Allison getting rather up close and personal. She winced and looked away only for her eyes to land on Lydia getting practically devoured by Jackson against a pillar. Well _that_ was a kick to the gut. She grabbed a cup from a passer-by, thankful to find it filled with liquid. "Is there alcohol in this?" she asked the stranger, and he nodded. "I'll be keeping it then." Confused, the person walked away and Grace raised the solo cup to her lips, downing half of whatever was in there cup. A warm feeling spread throughout her body from her chest at the strength of the alcohol, but it was nice. She hadn't had alcohol in a long time. When she looked back at Stiles, he was looking at her with a confused expression. Her expression told him to shove it.

Lazily, her eyes looked over the crowd. She saw Scott who appeared to be freaking out beside Allison, who wore a look of panic. Nudging Stiles, she made to walk toward him but was stopped as he broke away from the crowd. "Stiles, follow him, I'm going to make sure Allison is okay." The other teen obliged, leaving Grace standing alone at the party. She scanned the party for Allison but saw only one familiar face looking at her – Jackson Whittemore. He wore a drunken smirk as he sauntered over, Lydia looking confused but not breaking the conversation she was having with her friends. Grace downed the rest of her drink, tossing the cup on a nearby table. "Do you know where Allison went?" Grace asked, frowning.

Jackson shook his head. "No, I don't. Why are you here?"

Grace looked offended. "You want me to leave? Sure, as soon as I find Allison. Then I'll stop cramping your popular-kid style, okay?"

Shaking his head, Jackson stepped toward her. "No, I don't want you to leave. Lydia's boring. Stay." She was certain he was drunk, but she wouldn't be able to get home until Stiles was done with his business anyway. She grabbed Jackson's arm, tugging him away from the crowd and out to the front yard where Stiles was just leaving and Allison was hopping into a car with someone she'd not seen before. Grace rushed over to her, tapping her shoulder.

"Are you okay, Allison?" she asked, and the petite girl nodded though obviously pissed off. "I'm real sorry about Scott's behaviour. He was feeling ill this afternoon and I told him to cancel, but he just wouldn't."]

She gave another nod, smiling her dimpled smile. "It's fine, really. I'm going to get a ride home with Derek." Assuming that Allison knew the tall, slightly scary looking stranger, Grace nodded and gave her a quick hug, saying her goodbyes. "I'll see you tomorrow at school, Grace."

When their car had left, Grace turned back to Jackson. He had seated himself on the lawn and somehow gotten two cups and a bottle of alcohol in Grace's absence. Frowning slightly, she walked over to him, plopping herself down on the grass beside him and shivering slightly. "I didn't think it would be so cold," she murmured, taking the drink he'd poured for her.

"Is that your way of asking for my jacket?" Jackson asked, apparently sobered up now. He saw the look on Grace's face and chuckled. "Lydia's so drunk that she really hasn't realised I've only had maybe one drink. The rest has been water or juice. And I have to play the part, don't I? She'd probably get me drunk on a drip."

"Why does she want you drunk?"

"I think it's because it's really the only time I'm affectionate with her." After shrugging off his leather jacket and placing it over Grace's bare shoulders, he lay back on the grass, abandoning his drink to put his hands behind his head as a pillow. There was a lot more that Grace wanted to ask him, but she couldn't find the words for what she wanted to say. There was the apology, stuck in her throat like she was choking. Since Scott had angrily snapped at her, she'd been feeling bad. Instead of talking, she allowed the warmth and oddly calming smell of his jacket to comfort her and, after a few moments of silence, Jackson spoke. "I think I owe you an apology."

Grace cocked an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Because I've been an ass to you for like, three years," he replied, not looking at her.

She moved to lie beside him, her own hands behind her head as she looked up at the stars. She wished she knew some of the constellations. "But why do you want to apologise? You could have done it years ago. Why the sudden change of heart?"

Jackson frowned at her question, unsure how to answer it. He had watched an episode of _Californication_ just yesterday and there was this one stupid quote that summed up his entire relationship with Grace. He opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by Stiles, who had just gotten back, and was calling for Grace to hurry and get into the car. Turning, Grace gave Jackson an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, Jackson. Call me later, okay? Or… don't. It's whatever. I'll see you tomorrow."

As she left, she hadn't even realised she was still wearing his jumper. She threw her bag into Stiles' back seat, climbed into the front seat and left Jackson Whittemore sitting alone on the grass, staring at Stiles' stupid taillights and wondering why he hadn't just told her. In fear of rejection? He wanted to laugh at the thought of himself being scared of rejection, but there was some element of truth to that statement. Sighing, he grabbed his cup and finished off his second drink for the night, mumbling to himself, "She's the kind of girl that a guy meets when he's too young, and he screws up because there's too much living to do. But later… he realises she's perfect."


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: So I was wondering, do you guys picture Grace as someone other than Freya Mavor? (Brunette Freya, of course.) I mean, she's supposed to be very petite looking, almost underweight (touches on that to come soon) with very dark brown, shoulder length wavy hair. The only real resemblance to Freya would be her facial features and freckles. Is there someone else you picture her as?**

**I also feel bad for Lydia too, but who knows, maybe Gracie has a hot cousin or something... ;)**

**And thanks everyone for your reviews, you guys keep me going. Enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

Grace walked into the male change rooms the next afternoon before the lacrosse practice, ignoring the protests from the teenage boys with a snappy, "If I wanted to see a gorilla naked I'd have gone to the zoo, so shut up," as she looked around for Scott. She found him near the lockers, shirtless and breathing heavily as he spoke to Stiles. The looks on their faces immediately told her there was something going on. Chewing her bottom lip, Grace didn't greet Scott or Stiles with a hug like she usually would... this werewolf business had crept her out and she wasn't really sure how to behave around either of them. Last night after leaving the party, Scott's true form had been revealed. Grace couldn't be sure she really felt comfortable around what she had seen. But he hadn't hurt anyone – that was a certain plus.

"What's going on?" the brunette asked, furrowing her eyebrows slightly as she stood back with her arms crossed. "Is everything okay? No one's hurt, are they?"

Stiles looked over at her, shrugging his shoulders. "Oh, Allison's dad happens to be a werewolf hunter – the one who shot Scott in the arm last night. But no biggie," he said, tone overly casual, showing that he was slightly distressed about the situation. Grace swallowed, unable to digest the information.

"Allison's dad..."

She was cut off by Scott screaming angrily, "_Yes, her father!"_ Grace had never seen him yell before and, on instinct, she flinched away from him, slightly closer to Stiles. His chest rose and fell as he took deep breaths, struggling to control himself, a hurt expression crossing his face when she moved away. "Grace, I-"

She shook her head, feigning a bright smile. "Don't worry about it. I have to go. Gotta get a good seat for the practice," she said, hesitating before glancing away. She wasn't sure why, but being in Scott's presence had suddenly changed overnight and it made her angry. She wanted her best friend back, not to be part of the_ Scott Show._ Though she felt selfish for thinking so, Grace wanted Allison to go away. She wanted just her, Stiles and Scott like it had been for ages. She didn't want to watch her calorie intake or run until she almost passed out, and she certainly didn't want her thoughts to be drifting to Jackson freaking Whittemore every two minutes. Her mind these days was infuriating for her. Why couldn't she go back to her past? Hell, everyone was a lot happier back then.

Pushing though the doors, she walked outside and toward the bleachers, hoping that the game and hanging with Allison would be able to clear her mind. Locating her friend in the seats, Grace smiled warmly like nothing was wrong and greeted her cheerfully, running her hands over her black pleated skirt before sitting down, tucking her coffee-coloured coat around her tightly. It was _freezing._ She snuggled down into her seat, wondering why she'd even come to this practise in the first place. As the coach blew the whistle, the boys began their drills and Lydia cheered for Jackson, who was the first line defence. Most of the boys didn't manage to get past him and Grace had to admire the skill he had. He was definitely good at what he did and he looked so graceful as he moved around the field, blocking most every player that came his way. When it was Scott's turn, everyone was expecting good things. People chanted his name, eager to see those stupid gymnastic moves again. Grace kept quiet, as Allison cheered nosily along with Lydia.

As the boy ran toward Jackson, his pace was slow and his movement sloppy. Jackson mercilessly came at him, shoving him to the ground without so much as the bat of an eyelash. The crowd let out a whoop and Grace stood, her protective 'motherly' instincts kicking in. "Come on, Scott, get back up. You've got this!"

Suddenly, all that had happened in the change rooms were forgotten and Grace was rooting for her best friend, finding that werewolf duty wasn't all that bad. She loved Scott with all her heart and was glad she could at least do something to stop him dogging out and ripping people's heads off. However, when Scott tried a second time to get past Jackson, he sent the defender flying. Grace gasped, covering her mouth with her hands as she pushed past people to get down. Her main concern should have been Scott not wolfing out, but try as she may, she couldn't push the worry for Jackson from her mind. She shoved through the crowd of lacrosse players to find him on the ground, moaning in pain. "Jackson? Is he okay?"

The coach glanced up, irritated. "Who the hell are you?"

Grace pursed her lips in anger. "I'm his friend, so shut up and let me check on him, alright? Beats standing here watching him like you lot are doing."

She heard a laugh and looked down, seeing Jackson chuckling through his pain. A wince played onto his features and she couldn't help but blush lightly, shaking her head. "I guess you're okay then, aren't you?" she asked, and he gave a slightly stiff nod.

"My shoulder really hurts," he answered, and Grace found herself shoved out of the way by Lydia, who shot her a deathly look.

"Are you okay, baby?" she asked, kneeling beside him and placing a hand to his face. Irritation crossed his features and Grace swallowed down her disappointment, shrugging her shoulders as she tried to appear nonchalant. Sighing, she started off in the direction of the change room; supposing she should make sure that Scott was okay and that he hadn't murdered Stiles. Humming, she walked in, the quietness sending a shiver down her spine. She called out for Scott, frowning as she received no reply.

"Scott, Stiles, are you in here?"

Hearing a low growl, Grace looked up to find herself face-to-lacrosse helmet with a snarling Scott in the rafters of the locker room. She opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out as he jumped down from the height, teeth bared as he launched at his best friend. Just before they collided, a burst of white foam distracted the werewolf and he let out a howl, scrambling back to a seat. Stiles stood there, readying himself for another of Scott's attacks, but all they heard was a scared voice.

"Stiles? What happened?"

Scott was sitting on the seat, peeling his helmet off. He was coated in sweat and tired-looking. Huffing, Stiles ripped off his gloves and tossed them aside, glancing at Grace with a meaningful look on his face. She was white as a ghost and terrified looking, shaking.

"You tried to kill us," Stiles deadpanned, and Grace navigated closer to him. She couldn't help it – she was terrified of her own best friend and that thought scared her more than the concept of Scott being a werewolf did. "It's the anger, your pulse rising. It's a trigger," Stiles continued, moving to crouch before Scott as he explained it. The darker haired boy tried to protest, but Stiles was having none of it. "You can't play Saturday; you're going to have to get out of the game."

"But I'm on first line..."

Stiles shook his head. "Not anymore."

* * *

Grace needed air. She wasn't sure how much longer she'd be able to keep up this act of being okay with what Scott was. Of course, she didn't want to be _afraid_, but it was so hard when your best friend was constantly trying to kill you. Sighing, she ran her hands through her hair, scooping it into a ponytail. She was at home, now, and her dog Tony (named after Iron Man, of course...) whimpered restlessly at her feet. He was almost as big as Grace herself, being up to her waist in height. He was a Husky, broad shouldered and thick-furred. Also incredibly active, which was why Grace picked him out of the bunch – she needed a dog that loved to run as an excuse to get her ass outside all the time. Now, her mother never questioned her running rituals.

Once her hair was out of the way, she tugged her skirt and tights off, throwing them into her washing hamper pile before removing her jacket and plain long-sleeve shirt. On her bed sat Jackson's jacket from the few nights before, folded neatly and probably still smelling of him. Grace chewed the inside of her cheek. She would go over there and return it had she not assumed Lydia was there 'nursing her sick baby better'. Grace scoffed and looked around for her sports bra and second pair of yoga pants, Tony nudging her hand restlessly. "Yeah, yeah, alright Tony, keep your fur on."

Just as she tugged on her yoga pants, Grace heard a grunting noise outside her window. She frowned, turning to find Jackson straining to get the window open. "Jesus Christ, Jackson, do you have a _problem _with doors or something?" she exclaimed, rushing over to help him. "I thought you stuffed your shoulder?"

Finally, he came through the window. Catching his breath, he nodded. "Yeah, I did. Type one separated shoulder. It's kind of swollen and will probably take a few days to heal..."

"So why didn't you use the door then, idiot?" Grace asked, apparently having forgotten she was in her bra.

"I love catching you in your undies too much," Jackson chuckled, amusement playing onto his features as Grace looked down and blushed profusely.

"Why do all our meetings start out like this?" she wondered aloud, locating her sports bra and pulling it over her normal bra. She wasn't overly gifted in the breast area, but before she'd lost a lot of weight, the Boob Gods had been lovely to her. Now, she'd gone from a D cup down to a small B cup though she shrugged at the loss. She couldn't have a banging body _and _huge boobs - that would just be unfair. She would admit, though, that she felt slightly self-conscious in her work-out gear with Jackson in the room. "Why aren't you with Lydia?" she asked him, and he shrugged.

"I told her I needed to sleep early."

"It's seven pm. Did she really buy that excuse?" What Grace really wanted to ask was why he would lie to Lydia to come see _her_, but she kept her lips sealed though their conversation from Friday night had not been forgotten – she'd spent the whole weekend wondering about it, though, and she hated herself for it.

"No, but she left anyway."

Grace kept her mouth firmly closed and Jackson looked at her before he glanced at the jacket on the bed, smirking. "I was wondering where that got to," he said.

"You don't remember giving it to me?" Grace asked.

Jackson shook his head. "No," he lied. "I was drunk that night."

The brunette opened her mouth to argue against it, but suddenly thought better. Lydia certainly wouldn't be happy if she found out that Jackson had willingly lent his jacket to another girl, so why not let the pretty, strawberry blonde girl be happy? She had everything from the poster boyfriend to the perfect wardrobe and though she wasn't the kindest person around, Grace just wouldn't have it in her heart to tell her that Jackson had been _kind _to other females. She'd flip out.

Grabbing her already filled water bottle and Tony's leash, Grace looked at Jackson and smiled tightly. "I have to walk Tony, you should go. I'll talk to you tomorrow in class."

He looked like he wanted to argue, but eventually shrugged and said, "Whatever," before he disappeared back out the window he'd come from. Grace tried not to worry that he'd hurt himself on the way down, threw a house key under the door mat outside and ran faster and harder than she ever had before to block out her stupid thoughts.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Bit of a time-skip in this chapter - we're now at the end of the second week of their school. Nothing overly interesting has happened. Stiles, Scott, Jackson, Lydia, Allison and Grace will find themselves stuck in the school pretty soon... and maybe Mr Roberts isn't as kind as he seems. I mean what? ENJOY, AND PLEASE REVIEW! **

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The next morning in their double media lesson, Jackson and Grace were deep in thought. Though they were only finishing their second week of school, they were way ahead of everyone else on the project. Their minds were great together and the two of them were incredibly smart. Grace grinned, taking the ear bud of her iPod out of her ear to scrawl down some lyrics. For the male lead of their story – Tristan – they'd chosen two songs: _Let Her Go_ by Passenger and _Dead and Gone_ by the Black Keys. Basically, his story was that he'd loved her in high school but had been afraid to show it, he'd wanted to live his life. The female of their story, they had named Angel, for the sake of her having an odd name – she wasn't the type of person that cliché Tristan was meant to fall for, but he did anyway.

Of course, the ideas for their storyline reminded Grace of their own past, but she never voiced this note to Jackson. Instead, she acted like she didn't even realise that they used to have something, and she pretended not to hope that he was basing Tristan off of his own personality. Chewing the inside of her cheek, she flicked through her iPod and came to her Beatles playlist. Glancing up at Jackson, Grace tucked the curtain of dark hair that had fallen between them behind her ear, smiling. "So I've put a lot of thought into Angel's story, and I was thinking that maybe years ago she had her heart broken by Tristan. And he leaves, they don't see each other for years, and when he finally comes back to her she has all these trust issues against him and he's trying to make her fall for him again with his suave moves and stuff.

"She wants to, but she resists him because she's suffering from a real serious illness, something that she probably won't live through. When he finds out, she tells him that all she's ever wanted to do is see the world. And then they go on this epic adventure and… well, she dies. I guess. But we don't spoil the end, okay?"

Jackson looked at her for a moment, his eyebrows pinched at the middle as though he was staring at a complete nutcase. Grace suddenly felt incredibly self-conscious around him. She swallowed, pretending that her iPod was suddenly more interesting than any criticism that Jackson could have offered. After a moment of seemingly scrutinising her, he spoke.

"I really like it."

She grinned at him, her cheeks flourishing a deep pink. "Honestly?"

The jock chuckled, nodding his head and looking away at his paper. "Yeah, I do. What songs are we going to play in the trailer when she's all sickly and stuff?" he asked, and she stuck out her bottom lip in thought.

"What about _I'm Only Sleeping_ by The Beatles?"

In her mind, Grace could see the trailer already. It was mandatory that she and Jackson starred in their own trailer of course, but she didn't mind. It would begin with the Beatles playing their _I'm Only Sleeping_, going through scenes of Angel being tired and sick, travelling to and from the hospital. The weather would be dark and bleak looking. Next, the scene would change from tired to energetic and it would show montage scenes of Angel and Tristan through their high school years, laughing and being friends. Then, it would show him breaking her heart. Fast forward to years later and he comes across her in a coffee shop and feels guilty, a pang at his heart causing him to remember how he felt for her. They go on a date. They sleep together. She tells him about her illness and her dream and he promises to make it come true. Then, they travel the world with an up-beat, dance-in-your-seat song playing during a short montage and, the last scene of the trailer would be Angel in a hospital bed with a sad smile on her face. Tristan would hold her hand and kiss the crown of her head in goodbye.

When Grace realised she was talking aloud, she turned to look at Jackson, her expression excited. Though she had to admit the storyline was probably a bit more feels-y than Jackson was used to, he did look quite impressed. She almost burst with pride at his laughter and she wanted nothing more than to reach over and hug him, but the brunette refrained herself. "I'm so glad you like it. You know, I was worried that you wouldn't be into the hearty storylines because you're, y'know, a jock and stuff."

This brought a bubbly laugh from Jackson, who shook his head. He seemed to have forgotten about how angered he had been just a few nights ago when he was asked to leave Grace's, and Grace had somehow forgotten about how he'd stepped on her heart though it always lingered in the front of her mind. She smiled and wound up the headphones to her iPod. "All we need to do is write it out," she said, "but I can do that tonight at home." She glanced at the clock, poking her tongue through her teeth and making clicking sounds. "What could we do for the time we have left?"

Jackson shrugged, unsure. "Does he have those HD cameras for filming here today? We could always start that."

Mr Roberts glanced over at Grace and Jackson, quirking a brow as he overheard the last part of their conversation. Or, well, most of it. He'd been intrigued by how brilliantly talented Grace was, though he supposed Jackson was owed some credit too. Smiling, he nodded toward a huge, black camera on his desk. "I'm not sure how many scenes you'll be able to do today and at school, but you can go out in the yard and shoot whatever you can. I'll give you a hall-pass."

To say the least, Grace was excited. She'd always loved media but they had never been able to do something this hands-on. It had always been photoshop and animated shorts which were for beginners and now that she had the ball in her court, she was going to show everyone just how good she was with her mind. Quickly, she grabbed her bag and shoved her things inside, Jackson following behind though he lacked a lot of the enthusiasm Grace had. She looked so… beautiful. Her face was happy, peppered with freckles as her dark eyes sparkled wildly. Grabbing his hand, she tugged him out of the classroom and into the yard, the warm sunny air leaving her feeling relaxed and cheerful.

"So we should get a few shots of each other, like maybe the couple records themselves a few times throughout the trips around the world? Maybe that's how the trailer could start… and then it would go to her being sick, then to the past, then to their adventure."

Jackson nodded along, finding that he'd go with anything that she said, even if she told him to jump off a cliff. Two weeks, that's how long he'd _really_ known the new Grace, and he liked it more and more every day, much to his dismay. "So do you want to start, or shall I start?" he asked, and she smiled and handed him the camera after turning it on.

"We just need to act couple-y, we can write out lines for our scenes later on. It's just a test run, okay?" Grace instructed, and Jackson nodded, pressing the record button as he raised the camera to her face. The wind blew her hair slightly and she reached up, pulling it from her face and laughing somewhat awkwardly. She had this unspeakable element of confidence about her despite the fact that she had no clue regarding what to say and Jackson adored it – he adored _her._ "It's rolling," he told her a moment later and she laughed.

"Duh, the light is on."

He turned the camera with a frown, checking to see the recorder light was there. Sure enough, it was, and he was standing there recording himself looking like an ass. He rolled his eyes. "Whatever, shouldn't we be doing couple-y things?" he asked, and Grace shrugged her shoulders and tightened the scarf around her neck.

"What do couples do? You should know," her tone was light and teasing and he found that although the taunt stung, he couldn't be mad with her. Considering this for a moment, Jackson stuck his tongue out in thought. Grace's stomach flipped and she almost forgot she was being recorded. "How do you enjoy viva la Paris, Tristan, my dear?" Grace asked, sauntering over to the camera man and snaking a hand around his waist. Her character, Angel, would never be this confident, but she played the part anyway, putting on a mock-posh accent. It was just a test, after all.

"I love it, but its beauty doesn't even come close to yours," Jackson replied after a moment, his features conveying amusement as he poshed-up his own tone. He leaned in slightly closer to Grace, the camera now turned to film the both of them laughing and hugging closely. As he turned to look from the camera to Grace, Jackson faltered. Their faces were close, breaths mixing as Grace looked almost nervous. She hesitated before stepping back, looking away from him and frowning deeply. "Grace, I-"

"Don't, Jackson." The bell rang, cutting off their time. She took the camera from him and switched it off. "School's over for today. Go find Lydia, I'm sure she wants to see you."

Her tone was bitter and angry and though Jackson knew she had every reason to be, it still angered him. He felt worthless at her rejections and he _knew_ she would react this way to any advances, but it didn't make him any more used to being told 'no'. And suddenly, Lydia wasn't enough. He wanted smart and beautiful and talented and sexy in polka-dotted underwear sitting on a beanbag laughing at him and making him nervous and sweaty. Instead, he had cliché. As she grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder, Jackson turned away, face red with anger that he didn't want her to see. Fine, he'd go see Lydia, and Grace could stay perfect and alone.

_He didn't need her._


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: I've written up chapters 10 and 11 and they broke my heart – poor Grace! She really does hate hanging around the hospital so much. BUT I HAVE SAID TOO MUCH ALREADY. I thought it was about high time to get this ****_going_**** a little faster and though there are a few setbacks in Grace and Jackson's relationship, there are even more with Gracie, Scott and Stiles' friendship. I've been planning this for a while now and oh my, it's going to be intense. ENJOY THIS CHAPTER AND DON'T FORGET TO REVIEW, MY BABIES. ILY.**

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_Three Years Ago_

At fourteen years old, Grace had not been the thin, petite girl she was now. She used to have hips and chubby cheeks and she hadn't cared so much about what people thought of her. When she met Jackson Whittemore, he had stolen her heart right away and it had seemed that she had done the same to him. She'd grin from ear to ear when he took her hand – making sure no one was looking, of course. Back in those days, she hadn't really realised what it had meant, having a 'secret relationship' with someone. They'd meet in the forest, talk and kiss and just _be_ together, and Grace's first love could not have been more perfect.

"Why do we hide our relationship, Jackson?" Grace had asked one day, brushing her bangs from her face as they trekked through the forest beside the running creek. He glanced at her, confused for a moment before he sighed.

"I don't know. I just don't want people to know yet," he said, and she didn't push it at all. But something tugged at her in the back of her mind, something wanted her to ask and get the truth from him. Was he ashamed to be with her? It was likely. That day, she wore a baggy sweater and a pair of skinny jeans that accented her thighs – the thighs that were much larger than Lydia's or any of the other girls'. Sighing, Grace let go of Jackson's hand.

"My mom and dad were fighting a lot again last night," she told him, chewing her bottom lip. Jackson looked at her, his expression softening. "He started packing his things, I think he's leaving us for good, you know."

He wasn't entirely sure what to say, but guilt built up inside of him. Why were things so hard on her? She didn't deserve such a crappy dad, she didn't deserve a brother who didn't care. Sighing, Jackson tugged her over and kissed her nose. "You're better off without him, Gracie," he told her, and she believed that she could function without her father so long as she had Jackson. "You'll always have me, promise."

How could Grace not believe that when his eyes were so genuine and his hand was so tightly clamped around hers that he was afraid to let go? She was so thankful for him, so glad that she had someone to call her own and someone to call her _theirs._ Her father wouldn't do it anymore, her brother was ashamed of her and her mother was too wrapped up in her divorce to notice her daughter – Stiles and Scott were there, but it wasn't the same as having Jackson to hold her, to smile at her secretly across the room, to kiss her gently and tell her things would be okay.

_She believed she could function so long as she had Jackson._

What an idiot she had been.

* * *

The next week, Grace had seen Jackson holding hands with Lydia in the cafeteria. It was the night after her father had left for good and she couldn't help it – she needed him, she needed someone to kiss her wounds better and make sure she would be okay. Marching up to him with tears in her eyes, Grace hadn't even glanced at Lydia, and this had annoyed the strawberry-blonde bully. "What do you want, freak?" she asked, her tone nasty. Grace blinked and looked at her.

"I need to speak to Jackson. It's urgent."

Lydia snorted. "My boyfriend doesn't want to talk to you, loser. We don't associate with fat pigs."

Grace had always known that juniors were cruel – especially the girls – but she'd never known a pain like that in her chest before. She felt empty, hollow. She was in the place where the nothingness lived when the people were breathing, where night went when day took over, shining and living and letting people love. It was then Grace realised that she _was_ the night time. She was lonely, dark and hollow. Shadows moved through her heart, people didn't admire her, they admired the stars around her and they admired the moon – they admired Lydia.

She took deep, wavering breath and looked to Jackson for help, but he avoided her gaze as he said, "get of here, you're worthless. We don't want you here. Go on, scat."

The brunette stared at him, long and hard, willing him to take back his words and tell her he was joking, willing him to keep the promise he'd made to her. But he didn't. He avoided her emotional brown eyes like the plague and gripped Lydia's hand so tightly that she cursed him for it, and suddenly, Grace was filled with hatred.

Everyone had left her. Her father, her brother, her _boyfriend_ who had even promised her forever, had left her alone. What was she worth if her own father didn't love her? Fat, ugly, worthless and loser – those were the words she associated with herself when she bought her first pair of real trainers. That night, she had ran for three solid hours and skipped on dinner afterwards. When she continued this habit, no one noticed the weight loss until Stiles told her that her boobs had shrunk. She'd punched him in the face before going home and binging before going on another running rampage. It was like her own personal therapy – she would never be able to make herself throw up, so forcing herself to exhume all her energy was close enough. Burn off the goodies, Gracie, she would tell herself.

Eventually, she even stopped eating the goodies. The running went from something she did to keep the weight off to something she did to actually _lose_ her weight and she became thin, frail and petite. People had finally stopped staring at her in disgust and it was a beautiful thing, having a stranger approach her at fifteen and compliment her hair or her complexion or her _to-die-for_ outfit that had costed her a fortune.

Grace Hart went from the girl who didn't care to the girl who couldn't stop caring and it was slowly but surely going to be the end of everything.

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**A/N: Such a short chapter, I'm sorry! But the next chapter is a whopper, and a sort of heart-tugging, cliff-hanging one at that. Please review, it'd mean the world to me! Special thanks to Kat7CA, who reviews most every chapter. You rock~ STAY TUNED, THE ROLLER-COASTER IS ABOUT TO PLUMMET. WOAH. Also, psssst. Another update in like, 12 hours. Or less! When I wake up. Its 1am here now. :)**


	10. Chapter 10

**_A/N: Oops. Don't hate me. This was the plan all along! I've got plans not only for Jackson and Grace, but Scotty and Grace, too… stay tuned, dears. PLEASE READ AND REVIEW! Happy tenth chapter ;)_**

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Grace sat in her bed Sunday night, her head buried in her hands as she struggled to figure out what the hell was going on in her math homework. She had never been good at things like this – math, science and biology were her weakest subjects yet her mother insisted she persist with them. Puffing her cheeks out, she sat her chin in her hands, staring down at the textbook though none of the words were being read. Her thoughts kept drifting elsewhere – the way Jackson smelt so close to her, the beating of her heart like a drum in her ears, the tiny freckles that dotted on his nose so gently that she could barely see them… she frowned, huffing angrily before picking up the textbook and tossing it across the room. She was _angry_ and she had never been this bad in her life.

Her hands shook, her mind raced. How dare he try and get close to her after what he had done to her! She grunted, throwing herself off the bed and putting her runners on. Though she was in her pyjama shorts and a tank top and the weather was below forty, she didn't care. She grabbed her keys, tossed them underneath the mat outside of her house and took off running.

Soon, Grace found herself deeper into the woods than she'd ever been before. It was quiet and all she could hear was her footsteps, crunching leaves underfoot and her heavy breathing. Running used to be a way for her to take her mind off things… now, she found that she couldn't stop thinking. She let out a frustrated howl, stopping suddenly beside a small creek that crackled and shone in the moonlight. Exhausted, she sunk down at the nape of a tree trunk, curling into herself, her face buried in her hands. Shadows danced around her and suddenly, the eerie feeling of being watched sent a shiver down her spine – but she didn't look around. Painful tears bristled at the brunettes eyes and she let them fall for the first time in years, her hands raking through her hair as panic set in.

How had everything gotten so messed up in the space of just a few weeks? Her mind ran back to junior year when she'd first met Jackson, when everything had seemed so easily done and the world wasn't a complete shit-hole. And then, when he'd abandoned her in her time of need, things had gotten bad. But she'd learned to control it – her feelings, her mind, her thoughts, and her weight. Grace let out a shaky sigh and lifted her head, glancing around at the quiet surroundings. A slight rustle caught her attention and she looked around, eyes suddenly wide with terror.

"Who's there?" she asked, apparently having forgotten the protocol of every horror movie she'd ever seen. Certainty that she was going to die settled in the pit of her stomach, churning the food she'd eaten and giving her a sickly feeling. More tears bristled, more anger rose to the surface. Grace stood abruptly, suddenly feeling somewhat confident though she shouldn't have. "Who's there? Don't be a pansy. Come out if you're going to kill me. At least have the decency."

Another rustle shook her bones. Her eyes darted to the direction from which the noise had come, causing her to frown at a dying bush beside the bed of the creek. She started slowly walking, adrenaline pushing her blood through her body. If not for the human terror reactions, she'd be frozen solid beside her tree. Her breathing had slowed somewhat and the heat was disappearing from her body, goose bumps littering every inch of visible skin. A low growl caught her attention and her stomach plummeted… death by werewolf.

And then, the creature pounced.

Grace screamed as she landed on her back, the air knocked from her lungs. She tried to breathe but found she couldn't and panic washed through her, followed immediately by a strange wave of calm. She was about to die… when she finally looked up, she saw the wolf's face and a lump formed in her throat.

It was Scott.

"S-Scott, please, please don't do this," Grace tried, but she was cut off by an angry growl. She tried not to hold it against him but her mind immediately registered hate and fury at the fact that he could control himself enough to kiss Allison after wolfing out but couldn't hear her pleas behind the red of his vision. His clawed, hairy hand rose to make a swipe at her face, but Grace's knee kicked up, hitting Scott in the stomach. The werewolf let out a howl of pain, snarling horridly in Grace's face, teeth bared. She could feel sticks digging into her back, blood tricking down her face from her hairline. She gasped, feeling a sharp pain in her abdomen as Scott's claws tore through any skin he could reach.

Grace screamed in pain, arching her back and balling her fists to hit at Scott and get him off. She landed punches to his jaw, nose and neck, but nothing made a difference, his heavy frame still pinned her down and his menacing growls still filled her ears. The brunette squeezed her eyes closed, feeling her death weighing down on her like a thousand werewolves.

And then he was gone with a pained whimper.

The weight on her body disappeared quickly and Grace opened her eyes, seeing another werewolf fighting with Scott. She didn't want to stick around to see who it was. Fighting the pain in her head and stomach, the girl stood with a grunt, using the tree to steady herself as she looked around for something familiar. She was lost, injured and the werewolf bait. Another whimper filled the air and she saw Scott's smaller frame run into the night toward what she assumed was home, the second wolf making its way toward her, large and terrifying. "Please, don't kill me," she tried, and the wolf began to shift.

The grotesque features eventually became more human, forming the face of Derek Hale. Grace's vision blurred and a thick lump rose in her throat. "Don't kill me, please, I don't want to d-die," she whimpered, and that was when she blacked out.

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"Ms Hart?"

Doctor Evans's voice filled the void in Clara Hart's mind and the blonde woman looked up, eyes teary and expression stony. "We've stitched your daughter's wounds – five in the cut on her head and around fifteen in each of the four cuts on her waist. Do you have any idea what could have happened?"

Evans was a tall, caramel coloured woman with a voice as sweet as sugar. It was low and kind, soothing to Clara's ears. But what she really wanted to hear was that Grace was _awake._ Her daughter had been out for at least three hours now. Her concussion had been minor and the doctors had told her mother that Grace should have woken by now, yet her eyes were closed almost peacefully, her breathing was low and rhythmic and she remained in a sleeping, dreamless state. "She always goes running out in those woods," Clara sighed, messaging her temples with stumpy fingers. Her chipped pink nail polish made her look even more opposite to Grace than ever. "I didn't know she was going tonight though. She usually takes the dog, Tony, with her. If I'd have known…"

Shaking her head, the nurse sat down beside Clara and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "You weren't to have known what would have happened. But the doctors sent out those tests a while ago, you remember? Her blood has high traces of aconite and there were some hairs in the wounds – they've come back as animal hairs. Namely, wolf hairs…"

"She was attacked by a wolf?" Clara asked, disbelief in her voice. There hadn't been wolves in Beacon Hills for over forty years… she swallowed, shaking her head when no other words would come to her.

"She's lucky that she wasn't mauled, honestly," Evans replied, always the 'look-on-the-bright-side' nurse that Beacon Hills hospital needed. When a male cleared his voice, interrupting the conversation Clara was having with the nurse, the blonde woman glanced up to see Sherriff Stilinsky and his over-eager seeming son, Stiles, looking rather panicked beside his authority figure of a father. Stiles had always been like a son to Clara and she smiled sadly at the boy, standing and offering her arms for a hug. The teenager obliged though his movements were stiff.

"Where's Scott?" Clara asked, and Stiles shrugged his shoulders and sighed.

"I couldn't get through to his cell. I'll call him in the morning, though, make sure he knows."

Clara nodded, her fingernails raking through her hair once more. Unlike Grace, Clara was a very curvaceous woman. Everything about her was big though not in a misshapen way. Her curves and short, wispy hair suited her – as did her large personality and laugh that could fill a room. Tonight, though, Stiles thought she had never looked more like a tiny old woman than ever before and he felt dread settle inside of him. _Had Scott done this?_ Stiles couldn't contact his best friend, something must have been wrong… he didn't want to think of it. "I'm going to head off. There's not much I can do at the moment and I've got to call Grace's brother in New York before he goes off to work."

Stiles nodded, a blurred image of Roman entering his mind. It had been years since he – or Grace's family, for that matter – had even seen Roman. For some reason, Stiles was angered that Roman had the right to know. From what he'd gathered with bits of information from Grace, as soon as Grace's father had left, Roman had too. He didn't care about Grace and Carla, so why did he have the right to know? Stiles sighed heavily and plopped down into a plastic chair, his head throbbing now. "You can go in and see her now if you like, Stiles," Nurse Evans offered, smiling in a comforting gesture. Stiles nodded and stood, thanking her before he walked into Grace's room.

His best friend was hooked up to an IV, tubes running around and through her body. He guessed it had something to do with her not going into a coma – he'd been informed that she had a mild concussion. Her hair was tied into a ponytail and she'd been changed into a hospital gown, the pale blue making Grace look as white as a ghost. Along with the cut on her forehead, the other visible wounds were small scrapes on her arms and a bruise on her cheek where she'd either fallen on her face or been hit. In short, she looked like shit, and an overwhelming sense of pain filled Stiles. Of all the people that deserved this, Grace was the person who definitely should not have been in this hospital bed.

Pulling his phone from his pocket, Stiles dialled Scott's number only to once again end up with his voice mail. He wondered where he was before remembering the teen mentioning something about a date with Allison tonight. Quickly, Stiles rang Allison's number without thinking of the fact that it was two am. On the fifth ring, a tired voice answered the phone.

"_Stiles, why are you calling this early?" _

"I'm guessing Scott's not with you?" the teenager asked, and Allison groaned.

"_No, Stiles, he left at around ten thirty, said he had to get home to his mother before she grounded him for being out late."_

Stiles swallowed. Grace had been brought in at… he frowned in thought, glancing at the tag over her bed. She'd come in at 10.54pm. Dread filled Stiles and he sighed, saying a goodbye to Allison and hanging up his phone without waiting for a response. Tomorrow would be a long, long day.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: I LOVE YOU GUYS A LOT. THANKS FOR THE REVIEWS, YOU ROCK.**

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As soon as Jackson had found the holes in Scott's lacrosse glove, he knew something other than steroids was up. Determination filled him, willed him to figure out what that stupid McCall kid was doing and – someone shoot him – he wanted to know if it would put Grace in danger. He spent the whole weekend racking his mind of some kind of disease or something that would cause the kid to sprout nails like Wolverine and have super-human strength, but _Google_ couldn't even give him a straight answer: all he found were vampires and werewolves and he knew there was not some crappy _Twilight_ thing going on here. No way.

The teenager parked where he usually did, eyes scanning the crowded lot of Beacon Hills high for the familiar brunette, needing to be reassured. Why was he worrying about someone who gave no shits about him? He had no idea. But it was horrible, this caring thing. He made a mental note not to do it again anytime soon after Grace though he found he didn't want there to be an 'after Grace.' Seeing Scott and Stiles without Grace, Jackson frowned. Was she sick? She was _never _late to school and always with those two dorks, so the sight was odd for him. Nevertheless, he shrugged it off, dismissing the thought to the back of his mind. He couldn't afford to think about Grace right now, he had a reputation to uphold and a whiny girlfriend to make out with.

Meanwhile, Stiles was listening to Scott's rather vivid dream. "So you killed her?" he asked, frowning as they walked through the school doors.

"I don't know," Scott confessed. "I woke up."

He was speaking of the dream he'd had after his date with Allison last night, the one where he brutally murdered her in a school bus. He wrinkled his nose, the thought causing him to worry slightly. He hadn't seen Allison all morning, but Stiles had reassured Scott that his girlfriend was still alive and kicking. "How do you know that?" he asked, his forehead creased in worry.

"Because I talked to her at two-am this morning," Stiles said, stifling a yawn. Before Scott could ask why, Stiles cut him off. "I called to find out where you were. Grace is in the hospital, Scott. She was attacked by a wolf last night in the woods about half an hour after you supposedly left Allison."

Scott's expression faltered. "Wait, _what?_ Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"Because your phone was off all night last night, Scott!" Stiles exclaimed, becoming irritated with his friend. "Do you remember anything at all after you left Allison last night?" he asked, and Scott shook his head, beginning to feel sick.

"Oh, god… Stiles, what if I did that to her?"

Stiles blew air through his nose, shrugging his shoulders. "I don't know, Scott, but you'd better find out before Grace wakes up."

"She's not awake?"

Stiles shook his head. "She's not officially comatose. She just… hasn't woken up yet. It's like she's been sleeping and sleeping."

The werewolf shuddered, terror reining his emotions. Grace had been his best friend for years – how could he have done that to her? And if he didn't do it, then who did? He decided he owed Derek Hale a little visit.

* * *

"Derek, I need to talk to you!"

Scott's voice filled the emptiness of the woods, echoes surrounding him before the soft padding of footsteps on the forest floor caught his attention. Derek approached the teenager, shoulder's square and expression stony. "Yeah, you did it," he said, glaring at Scott. "You tried to kill your best friend."

Scott's stomach plummeted. "I… but I don't remember it. I remember wolfing out and killing Allison, but not hurting Grace. Derek, what the hell is going on?"

Derek shrugged his shoulders, crossing his arms over his chest and pursing his lips. "All I know is that you tried to kill your _best friend._ If you had listened to me, it wouldn't have happened. I need to help you control this Scott. I had to fight you off of her. You scratched her – do you know what that could do to her?"

The brunette blinked, shaking his head. Fear had stolen his words and paled his face and there was nothing he could say. His hands shook slightly as Derek continued. "A scratch is half as bad as a bite, Scott. She'll have hallucinations, dreams and pains. Maybe she'll even exhibit the symptoms of a werewolf when in human form. She'll be strong and angry, she'll smell things and hear things and hate you for it, just like you hate me for it. Only she won't wolf out, she'll just be stuck in limbo for as long as she's still fully human."

_How could he do this to her?_

She was his best friend, Scott had known Grace since they were kids. And Stiles… he would never forgive Scott for this. His throat tightened. This couldn't happen again. "Teach me to control it," he croaked, and Derek nodded.

"Only on the condition that you do me a favour after I've taught you." Scott nodded at this and Derek continued. "You'll find out what that favour is once I've taught you."

For once in his life, Scott didn't argue against Derek's motives or conditions. He went with it in hopes that his friends would forgive him and he wouldn't hurt anyone else.

* * *

"Stilinsky!"

Stiles' head shot up and he found Jackson staring at him, face hard. "Where's Grace?" he asked, and Stiles raised an eyebrow.

"Why do you care?" he asked, though his retort was lacking the venom he had been aiming for.

Jackson rolled his eyes, sticking his tongue in his cheek as he realised he had no answer for that. He shook his head, running his hand through his hair. "Look, just tell me where she is…" he started, but Stiles cut him off, standing abruptly.

"Look, jackass. Stop screwing around with her feelings, okay? Don't act all surprised, I've seen the way she looks at you and you're _playing_ with her. She deserves better than that. You're just… a washed up, bitter jerk. Okay?"

He hadn't meant for it to sound so rude, but the look on Jackson's face told him he'd hit higher than he had targeted. He was quiet for a moment before he sighed. "Where the hell is she, Stiles?"

"She's in the hospital, Jackson."

With that, Stiles turned and left the jock standing alone in the hallway, his mind repeating the same short sentence he had just heard over and over again until it almost drove him insane. He had to see her – but would she even want to see him? And what would Lydia say if she found out? Jackson didn't care – Lydia was driving him insane lately, pushing him closer and closer to Grace. He hadn't meant to be harsh to her all those times but he just… snapped. He didn't mean it but at the same time, he'd never felt more compelled to stay away from his long-term girlfriend. Exhaling sharply, Jackson shoved his hands in his pockets and started toward the door, deciding that he needed to see Grace, and he needed to see her right now.

* * *

As Scott made his way through the hospital halls after school, a sense of dread settled in the pit of his stomach. Derek had suggested going to the scene of the crime – the school-bus – to see if he could recall anything that had happened before the older Beta had needed to fight Scott off his best friend. He had been and flashes of memories flickered through his mind like an old-style movie, gone within seconds though he had deciphered enough to realise he was trying to _protect _the man. He wondered why he had been there after dropping Allison home – had he been called there by someone? Perhaps. He could distinctly remember involuntarily wolfing out on his way home, abandoning his car to run for it.

Now, he needed to see Grace. He hoped it would trigger some memories for him – he needed to know what he'd done to her and he needed to fix it. She had already been terrified of him and the image of her flinching away from him in the locker rooms just last week played on a reel in his thoughts, making his anger rise. He asked himself the same question over and over again: _how could he do that to her?_

He never got an answer.

Up ahead, Scott could see a familiar frame walking in the same direction as he. His eyebrows furrowed as he noticed the dirty blond styled hair, the air of confidence around the figure though it was faltering at the moment. He caught the scent. "Jackson?"

He couldn't believe Whittmore of all people was here.

Jackson turned at hearing his voice called, rolling his eyes when he saw Scott though he didn't walk away. "What are you doing here?" Scott asked, genuinely confused. He hadn't picked Jackson as the type to visit anyone in hospital let alone Grace. Jackson shrugged, acting nonchalant.

"She's my friend too," he said, avoiding Scott's intense glances as he continued down the hall, hands shoved into the pockets of the leather jacket that he'd once leant Grace. Weirdly enough, it still kind of smelt like her perfume. Jackson wondered why. When they came to her room, the two were allowed in and Scott greeted Clara like an old friend, hugging her and telling her he was sorry – if only she had known how genuine that apology really was. She left the two boys alone, smiling softly at Jackson though she had no idea who he was. The fact that he was here, though, was reassuring to her.

Allison and Lydia had mentioned something today in school about seeing Grace when she woke up, but Scott had thought nothing of it until now. He didn't _want _them to see her. He had given her scars, bumps, bruises and scratches all over her thin body. He'd ruined her beauty and he couldn't stand looking at her for too long. Breathing in quickly, Scott looked away and down at the stack of magazines on the table beside her, pretending to be interested in the latest headlines. Jackson looked over at him, hesitating before asking, "You okay, McCall?"

Scott breathed in shakily. "Yeah, I'm fine," he lied, swallowing down the thickness in his throat. He felt terrible, seeing her like this and seeing Jackson so faithfully at her side. How was it that the kid who'd bullied Scott, Stiles and Grace for three years was suddenly more worthy than he at being by her bedside? Scott shuddered, the thought irritating him. Jackson seemed to be lost in his own little world, gazing down at Grace like she was still the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen in his life. "Why are you here, Jackson?" Scott asked, his voice soft and curious. He wasn't trying to be hurtful like Stiles was before when he asked Jackson that very same question and the jock seemed to notice the changes in their tones.

"I…" he started, but he frowned midway through his sentence and looked back down at Grace. Her eyes were closed and her eyelashes fluttered slightly – she must have been dreaming and Scott hoped it was something pleasant. When Jackson spoke again, the sincerity in his voice surprise Scott, and the brunette furrowed his brows, interested. "I shouldn't have been such a jackass," he admitted, and suddenly his tone changed back to the usual snarky snaps. "Are you happy, McCall? I fucked up. I don't deserve to be here, I don't deserve to even _know_ Grace. But I do and I'm not letting her slip away like I did all those years ago, alright? Say whatever the hell you want, but I'm not leaving. Not until she's awake."

Scott blinked his puppy-dog eyes, a new-found respect for Jackson Whittemore presenting itself. He glanced back down at Grace and wondered when she'd changed so much, for he could see it now. Her face had changed – she looked peaceful, and Scott hadn't noticed how stressed she really was until seeing her expression changed. Her lips were slightly curved and she was almost smiling, another thing Scott hadn't seen in a while. He pressed his own mouth into a thin line, shaking his head. "Just be good to her Jackson, she deserves at least that."

"I won't hurt her like you did."

Squinting, Scott looked up at Jackson, appearing confused. Jackson snorted. "I know we almost had a moment there, McCall, but I _know_ you caused this. I can see the guilt in your face. I don't know what the hell you are or how the hell you did this, but if this… if this happens again, you'll have me to answer to. And I'll be able to _prove _it was you next time."

The words angered Scott, but he took a deep breath and nodded his head. "Same goes to you, Jackson. Break her like you did before and _you'll_ have _me_ to face."

"I guess we have an agreement, then."

"I guess so."

* * *

**A/N: So Gracie's scratches are a little worse than Jackson's were in the show, yes. She'll have symptoms like his, but since the wounds go a lot deeper (and for the sake of this storyline) she'll kind-of-but-not-really be a werewolf. Basically, it's like Derek explained. I hope you guys don't mind me changing a bit of information for the story, but I can't remember if scratches were touched on a lot after Jackson. I did some reading and I know he had the moods, hallucination, pains around the alpha, etc. so I took hold of the reins myself. UNTIL NEXT TIME~**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: YAY, CHAPTER TWELVE. I really love this story, okay? And I love YOU guys for favouriting, following and especially reviewing! Keep 'em coming!**

**I also wasn't supposed to post this chapter until tomorrow morning... well, technically, it will be tomorrow morning in ten minutes...**

* * *

Grace couldn't stay like this. She kept having the same dream over and over again and it hurt her head and made her cry out loud. All she wanted was for somebody to come and help her – the dream felt so _real _but she knew it couldn't be, and despite her cries, nobody came for her. She knew she was in a hospital – she heard the voices of her friends that came in and talked awkwardly until they just couldn't anymore. She could hear her mother and Stiles beside her bed day in and day out. She wished her mother would just go back to work or go home. It wasn't that she didn't want her here, but the woman had responsibilities and Grace had stuffed up her routines.

Stiles was always here unless he had school. On one occasion, he'd even given up one his lacrosse practice to be there. His hand held hers; he talked relentlessly of the things that were happening – the things that Grace missed. Whenever Scott's name was mentioned or his voice heard, angry flashes of memories entered Grace's mind. Screams, snarls, whimpers… they came for seconds at a time and Stiles always noticed her face twitching as the memories flooded. Why couldn't he help her? She begged him, but he didn't hear.

And she could _always_ hear what people were saying around her unless she was actually sleeping. Scott had come in and talked to her, Jackson had silently sat beside her for hours as though he didn't know what to say. No one came in as pairs, though… she wondered why her friends wouldn't visit her together. Although she was angry – more like furious – at Scott for what he had done, she did hope that Stiles and he weren't arguing. They were like brothers… her brothers. She didn't want to cause the friendships downfall. And Scott hadn't spoken of Allison once in Grace's hospital room. Had she ruined that, too? She just wanted to be awake, she wanted to see and feel, not just _hear._

Then one day, she did wake up.

Stiles was in the middle of his story about how he'd helped Scott get a 'magical bullet' out of Derek Hale's arm, blabbering on about how terrified the werewolf had made him and – get this – he had tried to make Stiles cut off his arm. Grace's eyes opened slowly, the pain of the light in the room making her wince. Her arms felt heavy as she rose her hands to her face and Stiles had been so involved in his own story he hadn't even noticed her until she groaned. "Shut up, Stiles!"

The teenage boy stared at her dumbly, blinking his eyes before he let out a shrill shriek. "Oh my God, Nurse Evans!" he called, standing so quickly from his chair that he sent it flying backwards. It clattered against the hard floor of the room and just made Grace's headache worse. Clara came in, gushing as she raced forward to hold her daughter. Grace's head spun – she wanted these people _out _of her space. Her weak hands reached up to push Clara away, a wince on her face.

"Please, I just..."

"She needs her space, people," Nurse Evans interrupted as she walked in. She gestured to Stiles and Clara. "That means you two are out. You can see her when she's ready, okay?"

Though neither Clara nor Stiles wanted to leave, they obliged to the nurses instructions and Grace shot Evans a thankful look, her eyes wide. It had felt like they were suffocating her and though Grace knew they just wanted her to be okay, she couldn't help but feel overwhelmed. The brunette looked around, her mind a flurry of thoughts, memories and voices. "Don't stress yourself, darling," Evans told her, and Grace could finally see the face that went with that silky smooth voice.

"I… I didn't mean to push them all away," she tried. Her voice didn't sound like _hers_ anymore, it was thick and croaky. "How long have I been out for?"

The nurse pursed her lips as she glanced down at her clipboard. "You came in on Sunday night and its Tuesday afternoon. You've been sleeping since you came in."

"Sleeping…?" she couldn't have been, she had heard everything from her mother's desperate sobs to Jackson's silent brooding. She had not been sleeping!

"You really wore yourself out that night, Grace. When you came in, all your energy levels were low, your heart rate was slow, you were losing blood fast." The nurse shrugged. "But all your vitals are fine now. Blood pressure is a _little_ high, but that's to be expected. The experience you had was very traumatic, sweetheart."

"What happened to me?" Grace asked, and the nurse avoided her glance.

"You were attacked by a wolf in the woods, Grace. You've got a lot of stitches in your right side, so don't try any strenuous moving any time soon, okay? We'll lead slowly into it. Now, you must be hungry… you haven't eaten for days. Shall I get you something from the cafeteria?"

Grace nodded meekly. "And my mom, please."

The nurse nodded, exiting the room after a quick, almost sad glance at the teenage girl. She was so weak, so fragile, but the rate at which her body was healing was incredible. The wounds she had come in with were in no way deadly, but after sleeping for days, she shouldn't have been as able as she was. The nurse chewed her lip, based the abnormalities on Grace's determination to live, and went to find her mother.

* * *

Clara was exhausted. She hadn't slept properly in the days that Grace had been in the hospital and Roman was completely ignoring her text messages and calls. Her own son wanted nothing to do with his mother or his sister, and it crushed her to pieces. How could he abandon them like that? It made her so mad her hands shook, but she tried not to show it in Grace's presence. The teenager didn't need anything else to stress her out. She was already as pale as a ghost and incredibly jumpy. As Clara exited the room after an hour with Grace, she nodded and Stiles and Scott who waited patiently out in the hall.

To Clara's surprise, Stiles went into Grace's room alone. "Aren't you going in too, Scott?" the woman asked, and Scott nodded his head.

"I will in a minute. I just don't want to overwhelm her," he said, and it was partially the truth. He didn't want her to freak out at the sight of him like the man from the bus had and he certainly didn't want her to hate him… he swallowed, the guilt weighing heavily on his shoulders. He was still so mad at himself, so incredibly angry that he couldn't control himself. The memories had started coming back to him, slowly and in pieces, but he hadn't been able to block out Grace's pleas for her life…

Stiles snapped his fingers in Scott's face and his head jerked up. His best friend said nothing, just nodded his head and turned to walk back into the room. Things had been tense between he and Stiles since Grace had been hospitalised, and Scott wouldn't have blamed Stiles for hating him. As he walked in, his brown eyes settled on Grace and a lump rose in his throat, anything he was going to say catching. He suddenly felt suffocated, like he shouldn't have been there. "Grace, I'm so sorry…" he started, but he was cut off by her raising her hand.

"Don't."

Scott frowned, slinking back.

"Scott, come here," she said, her voice quiet and husky. "Please, come here. I'm not- I'm not mad at you Scott. I'm _hurt,_ but I'm not mad at you."

He was confused, to say the least. His eyebrows knitted together and he stepped forward, gaining the courage to seat himself in the plastic chair beside her bed. The boy avoided her brown eyes, instead becoming interested in the pattern on her blankets. "I'm terrified of you, Scott, I won't lie to you," Grace continued, reaching out to place her fingers under her chin. She lifted her head. "And I don't think I can do this whole werewolf thing anymore, okay? But… but I love you, alright? You're still my best friend in the whole world, and you always will be. For now, though… we need to be apart. I can't be around you unless it's at school because- because I can't be alone with you. You _scare _me. Until you can completely control yourself…"

Scott knew what she was trying to say. He looked at her, managing a nod before he swallowed thickly. He didn't know how to respond to her, but he hoped to look on his face was enough. He was _sorry_ and he couldn't convey that any more than he already had – and he was thankful that she had understood him, thankful that she didn't hate him though there was still an edge of bitterness to her voice whenever she spoke to him. In due time, things would be normal again.

But Derek's words filled his mind.

He hadn't told anyone – not even Stiles – about what the other werewolf had said. _She'll just be stuck in limbo for as long as she's still fully human._ Scott let out a shaky breath, giving a nod. "I love you, Grace," he mumbled, and the brunette before him nodded and managed a weak smile. He could hear her heart – it was steady though admittedly it sped as he leant over to hug her. The fear, it was there, and he hated knowing that. But she held onto him nonetheless.

* * *

Once Scott and Stiles had left, Grace remained alone. She flicked through magazines, reading about month-old celebrity gossip. She wondered how Jackson was doing without her regarding their project and almost cursed herself for thinking about school while in the hospital. Though she would be out by the end of the week, she dreaded returning to Beacon Hills high. School had been stressing her out lately and Grace had a new-found hatred for the place, though she was excited to return to media and continue her assignment. She silently scolded herself for the thought.

She was getting quite invested in a story about bikini ready bodies for summer when a knock at her door caused her to look up with a grumble. Any anger immediately dissolved, however, at the sight of Jackson Whittemore at her door. She bit down on her lip and he looked almost apologetic. But not quite.

As he sauntered in, Grace noticed he was holding a camera and a bouquet of roses. She smiled, feeling the heat rising to her cheeks as he wordlessly placed them in a vase beside her bed. She wasn't sure when that had gotten there, but she assumed a nurse had brought it in prior to Jackson's visit. "What's with the camera?" she asked him, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. The teenager snorted at her.

"Just because you're in the hospital, doesn't mean I'm doing the assignment by myself," he replied lightly, and she laughed.

"You can't film me, I look like crap."

"Angel was dying, Grace!" Jackson quipped, voice filled with fake emotion as he placed a hand on his heart. "You're not, but you look like you're gonna, so I want to get some shots."

She raised her eyebrows, laughing at his taunting. "You're an asshole, Jackson Whittemore."

"So I've been told," the boy replied, turning the camera on and aiming it at her. She was silent, glancing away from the lens as she pretended to be more interested a wayward piece of string hanging from her dingy hospital blanket. "You look beautiful," Jackson mumbled, and Grace wasn't sure if that was him talking, or the Tristan they'd created. Did they even have lines for their scenes yet? She swallowed, refusing to look at him, suddenly overwhelmed with the knowledge that she _didn't_ look beautiful. Scars littered her body, she was bruised and battered and she looked tired and sunken.

"Shut up," she eventually said, and Jackson shook his head from behind the camera.

"No, you do. Do you trust me?"

Even after all this time… "No, I don't," she answered snappily. He was still recording.

"I promised you forever."

That was when Grace knew they weren't just acting anymore. Her head shot up and she glared at him, a sudden anger taking over her body and making her hands shake viciously. "You did promise me forever," she snapped. "And what did I get? I got you leaving me – I got my dad and my brother leaving me. I had virtually no one because you were too wrapped in your own world filled with Lydia freaking Martin to care about _me,_ Jackson. How can you sit there and- and apologise and call me beautiful? Don't you at least feel guilty?" Her voice was raised and by now, he'd turned off the camera and sat it in his lap, tongue in cheek.

"Don't you dare sit there and tell me those things Jackson, you lost your chance to do that years ago. You _broke_ me!"

"I broke up with Lydia!" Jackson blurted, somehow wishing that his words had the power to make things better. He wanted to tell her how much he'd stuffed up, how truly bad he felt for the way things had ended and what he realised now that he had lost, but he couldn't. Her fierce glare faltered and she stared at him, wide-eyed and angry. She trembled, her chin quivering as tears threatened to fall from her eyes.

"Get out, Jackson, get out now."

"Grace, please-"

"Are you deaf? Get _out,_ Jackson! I don't want to hear it!"

So he did. He shoved his hands in his jacket pocket and left the hospital, wondering how he'd managed to make such a mess of things. God, he was so _stupid._


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Ooooh, The Tell. Yay! There are a lot of changes to this, I hope you guys don't mind.**

* * *

The night Grace was released from the hospital – Thursday night – Lydia and Allison had hijacked her with promises of junk food and movies. How could she refuse? Lydia wasn't so bad when she wasn't determined to tear Grace's head off, and since she and Jackson's break up, she'd been a hell of a lot kinder to Grace though it was probably the brunette's fault that they'd broken up in the first place. In all honesty, Lydia had felt it coming for months before Grace was even in the picture. Jackson hadn't been himself all summer – especially not since he found out he was adopted – but she hadn't bothered to question him on it. She could never figure out what was going on in that boy's mind.

The strawberry blonde pulled up to the video store, pulling some coupons out of her purse and handing them to Grace. "Grab _The Notebook_ and something else, okay?" she instructed. Grace blinked. "You get to choose the movies because you're the one that got out of hospital!" Lydia chirped, and Allison rolled her eyes with a chuckle.

"I can come with you if you like," the brunette girl offered, and Grace shook her head and gave a small laugh.

"It's fine. I'll be back in like, two seconds," she told Lydia and Allison, ignoring the searing pain in her abdomen as she got out of the car, accidentally crumpling the coupons in her hand. She made her way into the store, finding that it was awfully quiet for a Thursday night. A phone rang in the distance and was left unanswered and a light flickered overhead. Sighing, Grace scanned the romance category in the N section, hoping to quickly find _The Notebook_ and a few other movies. The place gave her the chills.

Her wounds on her abdomen fired up, a pain shooting through her. She winced, her fingers gently grazing her shirt over her stitches as though it would relieve some of the pain. She blew air through her nose and grabbed the movie, standing quickly. As she turned, she noticed Jackson on the other side of the room, eyebrows furrowed as he looked through the sports movies, his elegant fingers flicking impatiently through the titles as he tried to find something worth watching. Grace's heart beat sounded in her ears and her stomach plummeted, the sight of him setting of something inside of her that was entirely new. "Jackson?" she asked, and he glanced up, furrowing his eyebrows slightly at the sight of her. "Hi."

He gave a slight smile, abandoning the movies to walk over to her, his expression sheepish. "How are you feeling?" he asked, and she shrugged.

"Guess I could be better," she admitted, avoiding his gaze to study the cover of her movie. "I'm sorry for what I said in the hospital, Jackson. It wasn't nice."

He shook his head, a bitter chuckle escaping his lips. Part of him wanted to be brutally honest with her – he _wanted _her to be his… but another part of the boy wanted to lie and tell her that he didn't care, that'd he was confused and didn't really feel that way. He wanted to save himself the embarrassment of being rejected by someone he cared about. It had happened once, why not a second time? Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair. The sound of glass shattering caught his attention and his head snapped up, both he and Grace's eyes finding the source of the sound.

The flickering light had been abandoned halfway through repair and one of the bulbs had fallen, glass littering the dirty carpet of the video store. Grace frowned, nudging Jackson as she noticed what looked like a person's feet protruding from behind one of the shelves. A feeling of dread settled inside her and she started toward the body, the smell of blood filling her nose. Her heartbeat increased, her breath hitched as the slow beating of a dying heart filled her ears. Why was she noticing these things?!

"Grace, I don't think it's safe to go over there," came Jackson's concerned voice, but she shook her head and continued on. As she steered closer to the body, part of her knew what she'd find, but nothing could have prepared her for the sight. His throat was ripped out and blood covered the body and the floor around it. She could hear that he wasn't quite dead yet, but the heartbeat was slowing rapidly and his time was coming fast. She let out a whimper, her hand rising to cover her mouth as she stepped back, knocking the ladder and the light. Darkness robbed the light and Jackson shouted out, stealing glances around the room in a desperate look for Grace as the lights flickered overhead.

The brunette turned, squinting into the darkness as she heard a growl much deeper than Scott's. A pair of glowing red eyes stared at her and she ducked behind a shelf. "Jackson, run!" she called out.

"I'm not leaving you alone here, Grace!"

"Just get out of here, Jackson, _now!"_

He didn't – instead, he crouched down behind one of the movie stands, breathing in sharply. Grace bit her lip hard, tasting blood. Where the hell were Allison and Lydia? Obliviously sitting in the car snapping photos of themselves, which was likely. She cautiously inched her head around the shelf. Down the walkway, she could see Jackson's hand from behind where he was sitting just three shelves down from her. Glancing in the other direction, Grace could see the werewolf moving quickly around them as though trying to terrify the two. Her breath hitched in her throat as it knocked the shelves around her down and they came crashing down on her frame, pinning her to the floor.

The beast ran toward Jackson and Grace shrieked, trying desperately to move but finding she couldn't. "Jackson, run!" she screamed, but it was no good. The werewolf was advancing on him. "Don't you touch him!" Grace hollered, kicking to free herself with all her might. She inched slightly forward but remained stuck beneath the heavy shelving. "I'll kill you! Don't _touch_ him!"

Jackson probably thought she was mental, screaming at what he must of thought to be a mountain lion of a wolf. But Grace knew better – she knew it was the alpha that Scott had told her about, the one that he and Derek were trying to kill. She suddenly felt anger engulf her like flames of a fire and she kicked and pushed with all her might, the shelves flying off her and across the room. She blamed the action on the adrenaline, standing as quickly as she could. Her stitches throbbed and stung the closer she got to the alpha and she grabbed the wood of one of the broken shelves, finding that it was suddenly light as a feather. As she proceeded toward the creature, she raised her weapon and swung.

It shattered in her hands as she hit the beast, but it turned its attention to the girl. She froze as the alpha came toward her, breathing harsh. Its breath heated her skin as it's clawed hands ripped her shirt, exposing the wounds given to her by Scott. She stared into the red eyes, never showing her fear. It seemed to almost smile at her as it turned, running off and smashing through the window. Grace heard the screams of the girls in the car but ran toward Jackson, falling to her knees beside him to inspect him. A cut on his temple was bleeding slightly but otherwise, he seemed unharmed. "What the hell was that?" he breathed, eyes wide with fear.

"I- I think it was a mountain lion," Grace lied, and he frowned.

"But it was so big-" he started, and the girl cut him off.

"It was a mountain lion," the brunette said firmly, nodding once. "You didn't get a good look at it like I did. Trust me, Jackson, it was a mountain lion."

He knew it wasn't – it couldn't have been. But her 'trust me' was so genuine that he couldn't help but believe the lies she was feeding him. He sighed, nodding his head before allowing it to fall back against the shelves, relief flooding his body. He was okay. _They were okay._

* * *

Grace shivered as the paramedics placed a blanket over her, glancing over to see a frustrated Jackson talking to sheriff Stilinsky. He didn't know what had happened yet they kept firing question after question at him and it was making his head hurt. He looked over at Grace momentarily, shrugging his shoulders before turning and walking away from the sheriff. He plopped himself beside her on the edge of the ambulance, his fingers itching to take hold of hers. "Are you okay?" he asked, and she shrugged noncommittally.

"Just busted a few of my stitches is all," she said, evading his eye. She played with her hands, chewing on her bottom lip as she tried to block out the pain in her waist. Why had the alpha just left her and Jackson alive? She couldn't fathom the maniacs reasoning for leaving two teenagers alive when they could scream to the world what had happened. Then again, who would believe them? She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. Lydia and Allison were hysterical but sticking to their vague stories. They had seen a mountain lion or something. Jackson and Grace had survived a mountain lion attack or something.

Clearing her throat, Grace looked over at Jackson. "What about you?" she asked, frowning. "Are you okay?"

"My life only flashed before my eyes," he said with a shrug. "Not a huge deal."

"What did you see?" Grace asked, suddenly curious. She looked up at him, eyebrows knitted together.

"You, mostly," Jackson admitted, tearing his gaze away from her. Guilt flooded Grace's mind and she shook her head, sighing through her nose. Jesus, it was terrible seeing the looks Jackson gave her… but she had a hard time trusting him still. She wasn't sure if she'd ever really be ready to be _his_ again and the thought of being with him honestly terrified her. But he seemed to genuine about his feelings for her, so willing to make things work. She looked back at him.

"Lydia told me you found out you were adopted over summer," she stated, and Jackson winced at the sore subject she'd touched.

"What else did she say?"

"That you'd been distant since you found out."

That was true. The shame he'd felt, the anger that bubbled inside him like hot lava. He'd finally understood what it felt like to _not feel good enough_ and suddenly, his whole world was upside down. It was then he had started thinking of Grace again, wondering if he'd hurt her the way that he'd been hurt. Had he made her feel like she wasn't good enough? Like she had to succeed in everything to be noticed? Like she had to _look_ perfect? The changes to her body and style had appeared out of nowhere the summer after she turned fifteen. She was suddenly gorgeous, thin and wonderful… she'd changed because of Jackson. It wasn't a bad change, not on the outside. But on the inside, he finally knew just how she had felt going through that.

He swallowed, giving a nod at her words. "Yeah, I guess I was. I just… had some things I needed to sort out myself. She was a distraction, I became distant."

"Why didn't you break it off sooner, then?" Grace asked, frowning.

"She was the only one who wanted me, Grace. I wasn't ready to be alone."

The feeling was oh-too-familiar to Grace, only she had never had the option to decide whether she was alone and lonely or happy and loved. Jackson had made that decision for her. Puffing out her cheeks, the brunette wasn't entirely sure what to say. She opened her mouth to apologise, words pushing their way to her lips that were bound to fall in a scramble, but sheriff Stilinsky cut her off.

"Jackson, if you don't mind, I need to speak with Grace."

Jackson nodded his head and glanced at her, the temptation to kiss her goodbye overwhelming him. Instead, he licked his lips, buried his hands in his pockets and walked away, leaving her sitting with her blanket around her and her mind racing with thoughts about him that she'd really rather not think. Had she underestimated his emotional capacity? That was likely. He seemed… deeper, more intelligent than he usually let on. Her time with him over the past three weeks had been incredible and she wouldn't have wanted to spend it with anyone else, despite the fights they'd had over seemingly nothing. Sheriff Stilinsky's voice pulled her from her thoughts and she looked up to see him staring at her expectantly. "Sorry, what?"

"Can you tell me what happened to you tonight, Grace?"

She swallowed and nodded. "I was in the store with Jackson and we found the body," she started, frowning slightly. She'd never seen a dead body before then. "I heard it coming and I told Jackson to run, but he didn't. It, uh, knocked the shelves around me down and I was pinned but I got out. Then I hit it with a piece of wood from the broken shelves. It ran off."

He nodded, scrawling this down on his paper pad with a pen. "Is that all?" he asked, and the brunette nodded, swallowing. He made to turn and leave but froze at the last minute, glancing back at her with an almost sad expression. "I'm sorry this stuff keeps happening to you, Grace," he said, nodding once. "It must be traumatizing for you. And not to mention your brother not even coming down here to check on you…"

Grace's eyebrows pinched together and she sighed heavily. Her brother was still a sore subject even three years later, as was her father. "The engagement, too," the sheriff continued, shoving his pad in his pocket. Grace looked confused.

"I'm sorry, what engagement?"

The sheriff looked apprehensive, as though he realised he had said too much. "With your dad…"

Grace acted as though she knew what he had been talking about all along and gave a nod followed by a miserable smile. "Right, dad's engagement," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "It's okay. He's got a new life now, right? It doesn't bother me. None of it does."

But it bothered her a whole lot, despite how much she hated to admit it to herself.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: So the first half of this chapter is slightly graphic implications of smut. Thanks to the scratches, Grace's hormones are going into overdrive… Please don't read unless you're comfortable with it!**

**This is also one of my favorite chapters so far. So much adorable. Also Derek gets shine a little. I'm on my break at work right now sitting on my iPod (thank god for hotspots because my phone actually sucks) sipping my coffee and I was so eager to post for you guys. Such a long chapter by my standards, too! Enjoy! :3**

* * *

Grace woke with a start. Saturday mornings had always been her sleep in day, but at eight am, she was breathing heavily. The events of last night had chilled her to the bone and left her with nightmares and anger in her mind. But she wouldn't let it get to her – the school was holding the parent-teacher night on Monday, Lydia wasn't heard from since she was probably sleeping off the events of last night and Allison was probably out with Scott. Wrinkling her nose and pushing her nightmares to the back of her mind, Grace ran her hands through her hair. She hadn't paid a lot of attention to it since waking in the hospital and it was growing disgusting and horrid.

Wrapping her dressing gown around her shivering frame, the girl padded into her own en suite and pushed aside the shower curtain, turning the hot tap on and allowing the fog to grow before adding cold water. Sighing, she dropped her gown and stripped from her pyjamas, stepping into the scalding water and letting it run down her body. It was soothing, it calmed her, and she finally felt at peace. Over the past week she could feel herself going insane and it was so good to finally have some time to herself where she could _really forget_ about everything and clear her mind. Well, she could forget about _almost_ everything…

Jackson had been on Grace's mind a lot since last night. She couldn't stop thinking about him, how he'd stayed though he could have died, how he'd given her his coat weeks ago, how he'd smile at her and call her beautiful though he only ever did so from behind a camera. Her breath hitched in her throat as she felt him behind her, his hands gently hovering over her waist, lips pressed to the pulse point on her neck. The brunette allowed her eyes to flutter closed, a shiver running down her spine as he kissed her neck, her shoulders, her back… his lips worked magic.

The water continued to run over them and Grace turned to face him, his skin shining from the water. A droplet fell off his eyelashes and a small smile crossed his lips as his tongue darted out, held between his teeth. He was beautiful, more beautiful than she'd ever seen him before. Suddenly self-conscious, Grace bought her arms up and crossed them over her chest, glancing away from him with a small frown. He was god-like, his fingers melting her skin as he lifted her chin and forced her to look at him. "Hey," he murmured, eyes locking on hers. He was at least half a head taller than her and he kissed her forehead, causing the butterflies in her stomach to go spastic. "You're beautiful," he murmured, voice smooth and silky and making her stomach do flips. "I love you." He leaned in, lips hovering just before hers.

And that was when Grace woke up.

She blinked, looking around her bedroom for any signs of Jackson. Had she just… _dreamt _of Jackson Whittemore? The brunette widened her eyes, glancing at her clock. It read: _FRI. 8AM._

Grace sighed heavily. She was going to be late for her first day back and she'd just had a sexual dream about Jackson freaking Whittemore. Heaving herself out of bed, she ran to her shower and tried to block out her terrible yet not terrible at all dream. She wanted to curse herself for letting any of this happen – the werewolf stuff, the sleeping in, the dream about Jackson... It was so creepy! Not to mention she totally was not attracted to Jackson at all. There were no feelings there, no. No way.

Biting her bottom lip, she slipped on her bra and underwear underneath her towel before dropping the fluffy material to her floor, going through her clothes before picking a pair of tight black jeans, calf-high boots and a plaid shirt. It was the plainest she had dressed since junior year and she couldn't help a sense of angry déjà vu. Huffing, she quickly styled her hair in a messy ponytail. Today, she just couldn't be bothered flattening every crease and taming every hair. She snatched her bag and her keys, called goodbye to her mother and ran out the front door.

* * *

Even though she took her care, Grace ended up roughly fifteen minutes late. She had completely missed homeroom and had to sign in at the front office before going to her locker, which made her twenty minutes late to Mr. Harris's class. As she walked in, all eyes locked on her and she glanced at Jackson before averting her eyes, cheeks turning a bright shade of crimson. "I'm sorry I'm late, sir," she tried, her tone polite. Mr Harris was, however, having none of it. He blew a sigh through his nose and gestured to her chair.

"Sit down, Ms Hart. You're excused for today, though I really shouldn't considering you disappeared for four days without warning."

Grace blinking, sliding into her chair and giving him a confused look. "Without warning?" she asked incredulously, her voice rising slightly. "Sir, I was in the hospital. How was I supposed to warn you?"

He gritted his teeth. "Don't make me regret excusing you, Grace."

The brunette's blood boiled but she sunk into her chair, frowning deeply as she grabbed her chemistry book from her bag. She blocked out Harris's voice, hating that she would be asked to attend the parent-teacher interviews tonight with her mother because she was failing. It wasn't her fault that chemistry was so hard, and she just wasn't good at the subject! She knew her mother wouldn't be angry but she found that it was unfair, having to be here tonight when she could have been doing something like actually studying for their mid-year exams. She rested her chin on her hand, eyes gazing over the words of chapter nine but brain not actually taking any in.

Too much was on her mind – she wanted Jackson but she was terrified. She wanted things to be back to normal. She hadn't had the chance to talk to Scott yet, but she could hear things, smell things, _do_ things that she hadn't been able to do just last week and it was all coming on so suddenly. She glanced behind her and saw Scott already looking at her. Of course he had known she was going to want to talk to him. "We need to talk, Scott-" she started, earning a sharp whisper from Mr Harris. She sighed and turned back around, the smell of Jackson's cologne hitting her from across the room. She knew Scott could hear her heart beating fast, but she only hoped he didn't know why. If he knew about the thoughts she'd been having about Jackson of all people, he'd probably try to kill her on purpose.

She chewed the inside of her cheek, looking to Stiles, who was asking Danny question after question regarding Lydia who wasn't at school that day. Probably recovering from last night and Grace didn't blame her for wanting a day off. The only reason she came today was because she was incredibly behind in everything but media – and that was thanks to Jackson. Just thinking his damn name sent a hot blush to her cheeks. She was so ashamed of the dream she'd had yet she couldn't stop thinking about it. Sighing, she shoved her chemistry book away from her and raised a hand. "Can I be excused, please, sir?" she asked, and he reluctantly nodded his head without bothering to look at her.

Grace gathered her things, slinging her bag over her shoulder and leaning up against the wall beside the classroom. She let out a shaky breath. What the hell was wrong with her lately? She heard Jackson ask a question just before the legs of his chair squeaked harshly against the hard floor of the classroom. His footsteps were coming this way. Wide-eyed, Grace looked toward the door as he exited the class, letting out his breath as his eyes fixed on her. "I thought something was wrong," he stated, frowning slightly.

The brunette sighed and ran her hands over her face, letting her head fall back against the wall. "Something _is_ wrong," she stated, and Jackson's face fell. "I've been hearing things I shouldn't hear, I'm stronger, I'm-I'm _angrier._ I could smell your nice cologne from across the room. Something's wrong with me! I had a dream about you!" she blurted before she could stop herself. Her face reddened further.

"You had a dream about me?" Jackson asked curiously, raising his eyebrows and fighting a smirk. "Was it hot?"

Grace didn't answer, and he laughed. "It so was. What did we do?" he asked, and the brunette huffed and slapped his arm.

"It's not funny, Jackson!"

His expression became serious as he nodded though his lips threatened to break out into another grin at any moment. Grace would scold him when it did. "I'm worried, Jackson…"

"It's Scott, you know that, don't you?" Jackson asked, and Grace's stomach plummeted. "I don't know how he gave whatever he has to you and I don't know _what_ he has, but he's done this to you and he knows it."

She frowned slightly, having not considered this really until now. Jackson obviously didn't know what Scott was, but he knew there was something going on. "What makes you think Scott has something?" she asked him, curious as to what his reasoning was. He shrugged as though it was obvious.

"Come on, Grace. You don't just gain superhuman strength overnight, do you? And suddenly he's all irresistible and fit and great at lacrosse. Plus, the expression on his face when he watched you in the hospital… he just looked so guilty."

"You visited me with Scott?"

Jackson nodded, shrugging his shoulders again. "As soon as we both found out you were there. We, uh, met there. It wasn't planned or anything." He didn't mention the mutual agreement they had both come to regarding her safety or her heart. He bit his tongue, wanting nothing more than to tell her how he felt. But she knew, he was sure of that, and she still had issues with him. He trusted her completely, of course, but so far it was just a one-way street. Grace sighed, hitting her head against the wall harshly in frustration. "Hey, hey, don't do that you idiot. You've got enough brain damage as it is."

Grace looked over at him, slightly humoured by his teasing. "What are you trying to say Whittemore?" she asked. He avoided the question, instead leaning against the wall beside her and raising his brows.

"So, about that dream…" he began. If Jackson could tease, then so could Grace… She smirked, shrugging and looking innocently at him.

"We had sex in a shower," she deadpanned, and his eyes widened at the image her words left in his mind. She leaned a little closer before licking her lips and turning, sauntering away from him and leaving him to his imagination.

* * *

When she arrived home, Grace was met with the familiar figure of Derek Hale sitting in her desk chair, looking expectantly at her as she entered her room. When she noticed him, she jumped in surprise. "Jesus Christ, Hale, what the hell?" she demanded, dumping her bag on her floor. He raised an eyebrow.

"I save your ass from your insane best friend and this is the thanks I get?" he asked, slightly amused.

"So that was you," Grace murmured, eyebrows furrowing. "And you took me to the hospital, too?"

Derek nodded and Grace supposed she owed him a thanks, but stubbornness stole her words and she pursed her lips instead, raising her eyebrows expectantly. "So why are you here, then?" she asked, swallowing.

"I wanted to know why the alpha kept you and your stupid boyfriend alive," he told her, and she almost choked at the word boyfriend.

"He's not my boyfriend," Grace defended meekly. Derek looked like he really couldn't care any less. "And how should I know why I'm alive right now? I... the alpha, it... ripped my clothes to look at the scratches Scott gave me and then it looked me in the eye and it was almost... smiling?" Her voice wavered as she recalled, a frown playing onto her face. She didn't want to deal with this right now. Hell, she just wanted to go back to being a normal high school student!

Derek frowned, rubbing his stubble-ridden chin with his fingers. "Scott told you about those scratches yet?" he asked, looking back up at her. She looked confused. "I'll take that as a no. Best you talk to him about that, he has some explaining to do. And probably some grovelling to do, too, if you'll react in the way I think you will." He stood from the chair, shrugging his broad shoulders as he walked over to the window.

"Derek, what the hell do you mean?" She sighed, ran her fingers through her hair for the millionth time that day and flopped down onto her bed, staring at the ceiling. That was the second time today someone had told her that her scars might be causing what was happening to her. Bile rose in her throat. Was she a... a _werewolf?_ Impossible... she didn't get bitten. When she'd done all the reading about lycanthropy with Stiles, it had never said anywhere that you could get the disease from a scratch. Then again, maybe no one knew. The man raised an eyebrow, standing from his chair as he licked his lips.

"It means, Grace, that soon, you're going to have to make a decision. The alpha doesn't want any tiny little half-wolves running around, and you don't want to be a werewolf. Do you see where that clashes, Grace? You don't have long to decide."

It took her a moment to fully register what he had said and by the time she understood, Derek Hale had left her alone in her bedroom. She glanced out of the window, a blurry shape disappearing into the trees, leaving her feeling more alone than ever. Who could she console in? Jackson? No, he wouldn't understand. And werewolves? She couldn't just tell him about the life she now new. It would put him in even more danger as it was. Scott? Of course not. She was still utterly terrified of him though it hurt her to admit. Stiles... she girl grabbed her phone and dialled her best friend's number, relieved to hear his voice as he answered on the second ring.

"Grace?"

"Stiles, hi," she replied, failing to keep her voice from wavering. He frowned on the other end of the phone.

"Is everything okay?"

"No... I..." Grace paused, shaking her head and deciding against telling Stiles. "Don't worry. I'm fine."

Stiles hesitated. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, of course. I'll see you tonight at the interviews, okay?"

"'Course. Later, Grace. Call me if you need anything."

The brunette hung up her phone, holding it in her hands before a sudden urge overcame her. She threw it as hard as she could, stone faced as it smashed into pieces against her bedroom wall. Her hands raked mercilessly through her hair as she failed to comprehend what was happening around her. Glancing down at her hands, she could see they were bloody, coated in sticky red and shards of glass. She let out a scream, panic rising in her throat as the blood dripped from her hands in fat droplets. But there was no pain... was it even her blood?

As she looked around, Grace discovered she was no longer in her own bedroom. The forest surrounded her, but she couldn't smell the crisp leaves or feel the ground underfoot. It was almost like a dream but... it felt so real. Her breathing quickened as she looked around her, her eyes stopping on something just a foot away. A crumpled figure, bloodied and pale, the breathing raspy. Had she done that? Frowning in confusion, Grace stepped toward the body, placing a hand on the shoulder so she could see the face. Jackson Whittemore's lifeless eyes started up at her, his throat missing, body mauled.

Stumbling back, Grace let out a torturous howl. She was so scared, this couldn't have been real... she couldn't have killed Jackson. Could she? She turned, coming face to face with her mother as the forest around her disintegrated. She was back in her bedroom. Carla rushed forward, pulling her daughter into an embrace. "It's okay, baby, it was just a hallucination. There isn't anything or anyone here, okay Gracie? I promise."

People were making an awful lot of promises lately.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Safe to say, chapter 14 has been my favourite chapter so far. Exploring Grace's symptoms and her slow as ever relationship with Jackson has been so fun. You guys will definitely love what I have in store for the Night School episode. Terror and romance make a wonderful couple, am I right? Anyways, enjoy chapter 15!**

* * *

It was safe to say that Grace's interview with her mother and Mr Harris did not go well at all. It wasn't that her mother was angry at her for failing, but Mr Harris had a sense of disinterest about him that had always bothered Carla. She'd been told stories of how rude he was to certain students only (those students being Scott, Stiles and Grace, of course) and she didn't blame him for that since it was no secret that the three had slight behavioural issues. No, what bothered her was the lack of actual help her daughter was getting with the subject. She'd asked questions about her work only to be made to look like a fool in front of the class multiple times and Carla was sick of her daughter coming home angry because of it.

So, naturally, she'd bitten Harris's head off.

Most of the class had heard it as they waited outside with their own parents to see the teacher and Grace found that she was bright red and incredibly embarrassed as they left the teacher's room. He had been dumbstruck and Carla was incredibly pleased with herself. As she left the room, Grace allowed a curtain of hair to fall between herself and any onlookers, pleased though incredibly mortified that her mother had actually given Harris a piece of her mind. Lord give her the strength to not rip someone's head off.

The events of this afternoon still had her shaken, so when Jackson approached her instead of going inside with his parents, she flinched away from him. The image of his… _dead body…_ still sent shivers down her spine and now, seeing him alive and grinning at her, just scared her even more. Would she do that if she chose the bite over death? She sighed, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Hi, Jackson," she greeted, her tone flat. He frowned.

"Something wrong?" he asked, concerned. She shook her head no.

"I'm fine. Just really, really tired."

Suddenly, Grace was overcome with the want – the need – to confine in him. She wanted to tell him about the werewolf bite and Scott being a god damn dog and how he'd basically caused her to be half-half, which apparently wasn't allowed since the alpha asshole wanted big, strong, full werewolves. She bit her lip, keeping her mouth closed as she crossed her arms over her chest. Jackson wasn't convinced with her lie.

"Are you still shaken about last night?"

Grace shrugged her shoulders, looking up at him with an irritated look. But how could she be mad at him? He'd stayed even when the possibility of death looked him right in the eye. He'd stayed for _her,_ not because he wanted to get in her pants (because really, what guy would actually risk his life for _that?_) or to humiliate her… just because he didn't want her to die. He'd been brave; he'd trusted her when it was so obvious that it was no mountain lion.

He'd confessed how lonely he was to her.

"My dad's engaged," she told him, and he frowned. He could remember the time in the woods when she'd told him her father was leaving and he was overwhelmed with a sudden anger at the man who'd abandoned her though he had no right whatsoever to go around pointing fingers. Pressing his lips together, Jackson sighed through his nose. She shouldn't be going through any of this, but she was, and she looked broken from it all. He couldn't blame her for being nasty to him.

"I'm sorry, Grace," Jackson mumbled, running a hand through his hair. He wasn't entirely sure what he was actually apologising for, but the words felt good coming from him. Chewing the inside of his cheek, he tried to keep a calm demeanour, but Grace was crumbling right before him. She made sure her mother wasn't around before allowing a tear to fall, her hand reaching up to steal it as soon as it ran down her cheek. _Don't be such a baby,_ she scolded herself, hand covering her quivering lips. Jackson was unsure what to do, but he let his natural instincts take over, reaching forward to envelope her into a hug.

She allowed him to do so for the first time in years, burying her head in his neck as she struggled to control her tears. She couldn't cry, not now, not ever. Her father was not to be cried over – that would mean he won. Had she been alone, Grace perhaps would have broken down, but the mere presence and embrace from Jackson had calmed her beating heart and allowed her to regain some kind of control. She gazed up at him, eyes shining with tears, and he used his thumb to wipe a wayward tear from her cheek. Cautiously, as though one wrong move might set off the bomb inside of her, Jackson placed a tentative kiss to the crown of her head before Grace reached up to wipe her eyes. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be crying over this, it's stupid."

Jackson shook his head, smiling slightly. "Don't apologise. I'm glad you cried all over my good jacket."

She chuckled, shaking her head before burying her face in his chest, embarrassed. "You're an asshole."

"You've said that already. Find a new insult, and then maybe I'll be hurt by it."

She snorted. "You suck."

"Ouch, Grace."

They hadn't realised, but most the students and parents had moved outside by now. Glancing around, Grace breathed in sharply, seeing how alone they were. Empty halls, no people in sight… she wouldn't lie, the thought of kissing him did cross her mind, but she pushed it away. Her new-found knowledge of what was in store for her ran through her consciousness. Could she really subject him to that kind of future, the kind where he'd need to constantly be on the watch, be in danger… No, she couldn't. Stepping away from him, Grace glanced toward the door. "We should go," she told him, and he reluctantly nodded.

As they excited the school, panic rose. Grace heard a growl and her stomach plummeted as the people around her screamed. She could see Allison's parents and Scott's mother Melissa all looking around, panicked expressions on their faces. Sheriff Stilinski was trying to get everything in order, but someone's car backed right into him. Amongst the chaos, no one even noticed. Grace's eyes widened as she ran over to him, falling to her knees at his side. "Sheriff, are you okay?"

He cursed as he rolled over onto his side, two gunshots running out and silencing everyone. Grace looked over, seeing a dying mountain lion collapsing beside a car, the fear in the pit of her stomach defusing. The threat wasn't the alpha after all. "I'll call an ambulance," she stated, looking down at the sheriff, who shook his head.

"No, just get my son here. I'll go to the hospital in the morning, it's not that bad."

Chewing the inside of her cheek in hesitation, Grace nodded. "Of course, sheriff," she said, dialling Stiles. "Stiles, where are you? Your dad, he's been hit by a car. He's not bad. Oh, don't freak out… he's fine, he just needs you to take him home."

"I'm just over by the lion," he called into the phone, shoving his way through crowds of people. "Where are you?"

Spotting him, she waved him over and he rushed to his dad, panicking. "Stiles, please, I'm fine," he pleaded, shaking his head at his son. "Just give me a hand getting to the car."

Nodding, Stiles bent down to lift his father up from under his arms, succeeding in getting the man to stand though walking was hard. They refused Grace's help, Stiles mumbling about seeing her on Monday as he walked away slowly, leaving her standing alone. She felt bad for him – after losing his mother, Stiles had never really been the same. Almost losing his father would have killed him. Looking around for her own mother, Grace saw her beside their car, looking anxiously out into the crowd for her daughter. She raced forward, tightly hugging her mother around the waist. Clara chuckled gently. "Easy, kiddo, you're going to bust your stitches."

"I- I was worried," Grace mumbled, swallowing. She looked around as she spoke, eyes peeled for Jackson. She was worried about him, too. He'd disappeared. Whipping out her phone, she dialled his number quickly and held it to her ear, growing nervous by the third ring. On the fourth, he picked up.

"Grace?"

"I was just checking to make sure you were okay," the brunette admitted somewhat sheepishly. Jackson chuckled.

"I haven't been mauled, so I'm good. Still got all your limbs?"

Grace nodded, giving a light laugh. "I'll talk to you soon, Jackson."

He said his goodbyes, hanging up the phone.

* * *

That night, Mr Harris had told Jackson's parents that he was unusually driven. There was something pushing him to be better, to be perfect. Of course, his parents already knew this. They'd talked to him time and time again about how he should ease up on himself, but he just couldn't. Especially not lately, and definitely not with McCall making first line… he just needed to please someone. He needed to feel wanted. He gave a sigh as he walked out to his backyard that night with a bottle of alcohol and his lacrosse stick and ball. He needed to practice; he wasn't on top of his game. And who would want him if he wasn't on top of his game?

Grace didn't want him at his best or his worst, apparently.

Although she was making it quite clear that she couldn't be with him, Jackson needed to at least try – he needed to show her that he wasn't the same person, not anymore. Finding out he was adopted and re-connecting with Grace had changed him and he was prepared to work for her. He _needed _her, not just a relationship. Sighing, he dropped the ball onto the grass and sipped generously from the bottle before sitting it beside him. He scooped the ball into the net and made a shot at the tin, missing.

He frowned, a mammoth wave of anger rising inside of him. _Keep calm, Jackson,_ he scolded himself, retrieving the ball. _You've got this._ He made another shot and missed again. Shot after shot after shot, the ball bounced of the tree and Jackson chugged down more alcohol. He missed again and let out an animal like howl, throwing the bottle squarely at the tree. It shattered noisily and Jackson breathed in sharply, forbidding himself to cry. His day had been going so well and now… well, now he was breaking all over again. He fumbled in his pocket for his phone, shaky fingers dialling the first number he could think of.

Grace answered on the seventh ring, her voice possessing a tired edge to it.

"_Jackson?"_

He let out a shaky breath, opening his mouth though he couldn't speak for a moment. "Grace, I…"

"_Something's wrong,"_ the brunette said when he trailed off. She could hear it in his voice and worry set in, making her heart jump. She worried about him as much as she hated to admit it.

"I don't know," the teenager replied pathetically, half-sitting half-falling onto the grass beneath him.

"_I'm coming over, hold on,"_ she responded, and Jackson could hear fumbling as she was probably pulling on her sweatpants with one hand. "_One minute, I promise,_" she added, and she hung up the phone.

Grace stayed true to her word, pulling up in Jackson's drive-way maybe three minutes later. His parents had long gone out for dinner, Jackson using the excuse that he felt kind of ill as a way to stay home. He combed his fingers through his hair over and over again as he heard her car door slam, his breathing growing faster and faster as he felt his emotions that he'd tried so hard to bury beneath the earth coming right back up, set on destroying him. He was becoming _hysterical._ Grace came through the back gate, Jackson's head shooting up as the squeaking cut off his pathetic panting. His eyes were wide, his face flushed as she quickly ambled toward him, worry on her face.

"Are you okay?" she asked, and he swallowed in response, giving a slight nod of his head. Truth was, just her voice helped in calming him. She frowned, biting her lip. "What happened, Jackson?" she asked, glancing around at the everywhere around them. He wasn't entirely sure what to tell her, so he told her the truth. He stared at her for a long time, feeling tears prickle in the back of his eyes. Had he been sober and with his guard up, he would have scolded himself for being such a girl. Now, though, all he could think of was the hot white anger that bubbled inside.

Grace saw his expression crumble and she stepped forward, her arms finding their away around his neck as she pulled him close for a tight hug, his face buried in her hair as his body shook violently. He clutched at her shirt with raw, freezing fingers and Grace was surprised yet pleased at the emotion he was showing. Despite how hard she'd been on him the past few weeks, he still trusted her enough. She swallowed the thickness in her throat, pulling away to look at him. "Tell me what happened, Jackson…"

"I'm not good enough," he replied lowly, slurring his words slightly. "I'm- I'm _shit_ at everything. I can't even play lacrosse!"

Grace blinked at his words, shaking her head. "Jackson, don't be silly, you're fantastic at lacrosse. You're amazing, okay? You're intelligent and wonderful and gorgeous-"

"Don't-" he started, looking away.

"No, listen to me, Jackson." Her hand reached up to redirect his gaze to hers. Looking at him sternly, she let her hand drop to his chest. "Don't ever let me hear you say that stuff again, Jackson, okay? You're incredible and I honestly believe that."

Her tone was so sincere that it was hard not to believe her. He wanted to scream and shout, call her out on her lies, but he couldn't. Her brown eyes were wide, glimmering in the moonlight as she stared up at him, her expression hopeful and filled with nothing but adoration for him. Truthfully, she'd always admired Jackson, even when she'd hated him. He was a jerk for doing what he did but it didn't make him any less elegant. He was well-dressed, lively and so bright that she couldn't _not_ think he was the smartest person in the word. Looking down at her, Jackson swallowed and gave a meek nod. "Okay," he said, and she smiled softly – was that a hint of sadness in her expression? She _wished_ that he'd see that he wasn't flawed because his parents weren't _his_ parents.

She sighed through her nose, smelling the alcohol on his breath as he spoke to her. Biting her lip, Grace reached down and grabbed Jackson's hand, tugging gently. "Come on, you're drunk. I'm going to put you to bed."

The boy didn't argue bit instead nodded his head, allowing Grace to lead him through his backyard and up the stairs to his bedroom. She was surprised at how… boyish it really was. Feeling the awkwardness setting in, she turned her back on him as he walked into the bedroom. "Get, uh, undressed."

She could practically hear him smirking. "You'd love that, wouldn't you?"

Grace flushed red, shaking her head though it was very much true. "Just do it, Whittemore," she snapped. He obliged, peeling his t-shirt over his head and stripping out of his jeans after taking his shoes and socks off. He stood there quietly for a moment, staring at her back with a small frown on his face. "Will you stay with me tonight, Gracie?"

The girl's heart leapt into her throat at her old nickname. Jackson used to call her that when they were together, and she'd officially banned Stiles and Scott from saying that name as soon as they'd broken up. It was a nickname she associated with painful memories, abandonment and anger, but Grace couldn't bring herself to be mad at him for the use of the name. He was like an innocent puppy. A very drunk innocent puppy. Nodding, much to her dismay, Grace turned around, pretending that seeing him almost naked didn't spark something inside of her. "Of course, you idiot," she mumbled, running her hand through her hair. "Can I borrow a shirt to sleep in?"

He nodded, gesturing to the closet to which she walked, leaving through and finding a huge sweatshirt. She almost asked him to turn around, but she saw no reason, knowing that he wouldn't remember any of this in the morning. Jerking her shirt over her head, Grace folded it and placed it on his desk before stripping from her sweats, repeating the action with nervous hands. She was baring herself to him – scars and all – and he wouldn't even remember. Perhaps that was why she felt comfortable with the idea; because Jackson Whittemore would not be able to say he had seen Grace Hart's scars because he wouldn't even remember. Most the scars on her body were from her incident with Scott, though others she had accumulated over the years of her heartache following the absence of her father. None of them were self-inflicted, but every one of them told a story.

She hauled the huge sweatshirt over her head, amused at the fact that it came down to her mid-thighs. She felt like she was wearing a very warm, very baggy dress. Chuckling, Grace just about tiptoed over to Jackson's queen-sized bed, throwing back the covers and crawling in, sinking into the comfort of the mattress immediately. She hadn't realised how exhausted she really was. Jackson crept in next to her and Grace blamed his drunken stupor for the fact that he curled up behind her, head nestled above her own as his frame fit perfectly around her own. His hand lightly sat on her waist and he was so casual about it that it couldn't be anything but innocent… right?

* * *

**A/N: I DIDN'T EVEN PLAN THE WHOLE DRUNK-JACKSON AND GRACE SCENE BUT OH MY GOD I RE-WATCHED THE EPISODE AND GOT SAD OVER IT SO I ADDED IT IN AND GRACE WASN'T MEANT TO STAY OVER BUT THAT GIRL HAS A MIND OF HER OWN. I don't think it's healthy to fangirl over your own fanfiction... READ AND REVIEW, LOVE YOU ALL.**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Okay now I can change Stilinsky to Stilinski because I keep forgetting. **

**ALSO, regarding Grace's scratches and whether or not she'll turn... all shall be revealed soon.**

* * *

The next morning, Grace woke slowly, burying her face in the down-feather pillows and hugging the blankets close to her. She couldn't ever remember her bed being this comfortable but she supposed she was so exhausted that lying on a barn floor could have felt like being in a waterbed. Rolling over, she stretched her limbs, giving a loud yawn. As she opened her eyes, she glanced at the poster of some world-famous lacrosse team. She blinked. That wasn't her poster.

She looked around the room, confused. This wasn't her room.

Then she remembered… she had stayed at Jackson's last night. Her eyes widened as she looked down at her bare legs, her bits barely covered by his sweatshirt. Oh, god, why had she done this? She flushed red, looking around Jackson's bedroom. He was nowhere to be seen. Had his parents come home and found them like this? Oh, god, what would her mother say after finding her in bed with a boy who wasn't freaking Stiles or Scott? And what would _Stiles and Scott _say? Oh, they'd tease her relentlessly before murdering her.

The brunette huffed, unsure what to do next. Should she take her clothes and go? The bed was so warm and comfortable and the feint Jackson smell she'd come to love lingered around the room, sending her heart into overdrive. Swallowing, she decided against leaving – obviously she was staying to make sure Jackson was okay in a completely platonic way. He was her friend and she cared about her friends. And also slept in their beds…

She was just re-burying herself under the covers when he walked back in, towel slung loosely around his waist and a toothbrush hanging from her mouth. She could see water droplets on his shoulders and chest that had failed to be found by the towel draped around him. Grace blinked; suddenly embarrassed by the amount of skin they were both showing. She tugged the covers up to her chin. "Morning," Jackson greeted through a mouth full of toothbrush. Grace smile softly.

"Glad to see you're feeling better," she told him, and he chuckled.

"I don't remember a thing," he admitted sheepishly. "I woke up with a headache and you half-dressed in my bed. Did we…?" he trailed off, allowing the sentence to hang loosely in the air. Grace's eyes bulged.

"No! Oh, god, no. We- we didn't do anything."

Jackson looked perplexed. "No need to look so scared. Way to boost a man's ego."

She didn't know how to answer that, so instead, she pressed her lips together and sunk back into the sea of blankets, ignoring him. Sleep itched at her, tugged her consciousness away from her, but she fought against it. She was so tired and the bed was so warm so comfortable… she never wanted to leave. But when her phone buzzed from over on the table with the ringtone she used for her mother, Grace raised an eyebrow and threw the covers back, the cold air hitting her hard. She shivered and raced for her phone before practically jumping back into his bed.

_(1) New Text Message: Momma Bear_

She clicked the open button, eyes scanning over the words that caused a jump to her heart. Jackson peeked over at her curiously, her expression worrying him. She placed a hand to her mouth so as not to make a whimper. Swallowing thickly, Grace jumped out of the bed again and grabbed her sweats, pulling them on hurriedly. "I have to go," she murmured, and Jackson frowned.

"Is everything okay?"

Grace shook her head and, for once, she didn't sugar-coat her feelings. "No. My dad's back."

* * *

Grace drove home quickly, pushing her pedal to the floor as she skidded dangerously around the streets of Beacon Hills. Her father was home, her father was home… and he was also engaged to another woman. Her stomach felt uneasy as she drove and the closer she got to her house, the more she wanted to turn around and go back to Jackson's. She was still wearing his sweatshirt and her own t-shirt remained on the passenger seat of the car. At least she had _something_ to calm her nerves. With shaking hands, she turned into her driveway.

The brunette hesitated outside her own front door, frowning deeply. By this rate, she'd have frown lines at thirty instead of forty-five. That was if she lived that long. Blowing out air from the breath she didn't know she was holding she tapped nervously on her leg and looked around, not wanting to take her key and unlock the door herself. But when she did start moving, it was as though someone else had taken over her body. An abrupt numb, empty feeling stole her body and made it someone else's. She unlocked the front door and stepped into a quiet, tense environment.

"Mom?" she called, her voice shaking slightly. This was the moment she'd been waiting for; it was the moment that never came when she needed it. Walking down the hallway, she found her way into the kitchen where her father, Clara and Roman were sat at the kitchen island in an obstinate silence. She looked around, eyes settling on the young looking features of her father. He must have been around forty, but he looked like he was in his late twenties. His hair was styled, his teeth were pearly and white and he wore a god damn suit. Roman looked as though he hadn't bothered to do anything with his sandy-blond hair and his button-down maroon shirt was crinkled, as were his black jeans. Otherwise, he looked presentable. He looked like the sun of a rich, successful, pearly-toothed businessman.

He did not look like her brother.

"Hi," Grace managed, frowning at the pair. "What are you doing here?"

Alexander, her father, gave a hearty laugh. "Aren't I allowed to come see my daughter?" he asked, grinning at her. Grace frowned.

"You're three years late," she snapped, and his grin faltered slightly.

"Well, you know what they say, better late than never…"

Grace snorted. It was so like him to try and worm his way out of any uncomfortable situation with stupid sayings and quotes from people who hadn't mattered for at least a hundred years. She shook her head at him, pressing her lips together. "I don't want you here." She looked over at Roman. "You, either, _brother._ You can both just piss off." If the situation hadn't been so awkward and serious, Clara could have been laughing. The blonde woman cleared her throat.

"I said it was her choice whether or not to see you, Alexander, and she clearly doesn't want to. I think you should both leave." Alexander nodded, holding his side of the agreement. She wasn't sure where he'd been living these past few years but it couldn't have been close by. What was he doing back?

Swallowing, Grace watched Alexander leave, but as he reached the door he turned to her and, with a sly smile, said, "Don't worry, Grace. I'll be back in no time."

The words sent shivers down her spine.

* * *

Monday's really sucked ass.

Grace sighed as she led Tony toward the animal clinic for his half-yearly check-up. Her day had been long and uneventful and she hadn't seen Jackson once. Now, she had to come to the late-night clinic because her mother had missed Tony's appointment last week. This was the only time they could have fit him in. As she pushed open the door to the hospital, Grace noticed how abnormally quiet it was. She wasn't sure how busy they often got at seven on Monday nights, but she couldn't imagine it being this quiet if they couldn't fit Tony in until now.

She waited at the desk for around two minutes before curiosity got the better of her. Tying Tony to the leg of a chair, she hushed him. "Just wait here, baby," she crooned. "I'll be right back."

The quiet of the hospital gave Grace an eerie feeling and she chewed her bottom lip, lifting the board that stopped guests from entering the back room as she walked up the dimly lit corridor. As she advanced on the end room, she could hear three fast heartbeats, one slowing as the owner must have passed out. She frowned. A snarl ripped through the air. "Hit him again, and then see how angry I get."

Scott's voice filled Grace's ears and she contemplated turning back, but the door opened quickly, revealing the wolfish features of Scott's face fading and an angry looking Derek Hale. "Hi," she squeaked, suddenly afraid though she didn't know why. Scott's boss sat tied up in a rolling chair, his head lolling to the side. "Is that safe? He's alive, right? Well, I can hear his heartbeat. Is he the alpha? Because if you're killing people for no reason I might just have to tell sheriff Stilinski-"

"_Grace!" _Scott scolded, and she shut up. "What are you doing here?"

"I have an appointment," she mumbled, and Scott slapped his forehead as though he should have known this. "I can go if you want, I just…"

Scott shook his head. "I'm about to patch him up. He'll wake soon, if you want to wait." He glanced at Derek. "And… we need to talk to you."

Grace's stomach plummeted. 'We need to talk' was never good. She nodded and turned, leaving to go bring Tony into the room with them. The husky barked enthusiastically upon seeing Scott, who was basically his second owner. Scott grinned and petted the dog's head. The brunette took off his leash, setting it on the table before jumping up and sitting, kicking her legs nervously as she waited for Scott or Derek to speak. Eyebrows furrowed in concentration, Scott continued dabbing at Deaton's wounds. "Well?" Grace snapped after a minute, getting their attention. Scott nodded.

"It's about the scratches I gave you…" he started, and Grace rolled his eyes.

"If you're gonna tell me the super strength, hearing things, smelling things and super crazy hormones and dreams about Jackson are caused by your stupid unclipped doggy nails, then I already know," Grace cut him off, and Scott raised his eyebrows.

"You had a dream about Jackson?" he asked. Grace glared at him.

"Not the point!"

"Okay! Sorry, sorry. Uh, it was kind of about that. But, uh, it's also about being in the pack."

"No. I don't want that."

Derek stepped forward, crossing his arms over his chest. "Scott and I need your help to take down the alpha. We don't know what his plan with you is, but he's keeping you alive for a reason. We don't need to know why. We just need to kill him. Then Scott will be back to normal."

"What about me?" she asked, and Derek shrugged.

"Killing the alpha only works for those bitten by the alpha, not those scratched by a beta."

She blinked, frowning. "So there's no hope for me at all, then?" she asked, and Scott was slightly surprised at how she wasn't flipping out. She shot him a glare, but that was quite tame for the Grace he'd seen since she'd been out of the hospital. "Thanks, Scott," she snapped, but her tone lacked the malice it had just a second ago. She gave a sigh. "Great. I'm gonna be the lingo half-wolf forever."

"That's if the alpha doesn't bite you first," Derek snorted. Grace raised an eyebrow.

"Excuse me?"

"I told you this. He doesn't want half-wolves running around. You know that if he gets to you before we get to him, you're going to have to take the bite or die."

She could distinctly remember having this conversation with Derek not too long ago and puffed out her cheeks in frustration. "What if I take the bite, then Scott and I kill him together?" she asked.

Derek glanced at Scott and Grace had a slight suspicion that killing the alpha wolf wouldn't really turn her and Scott back. Was he lying to get them to help him? She shrugged her shoulders. "Forget it," she snapped. "I'm not taking the bite, whether he gets me first or not. Can we just go kill this mother fucker?"

Scott nodded once. "I have a plan."

* * *

They pulled up at the school minutes later, Grace being the last to reluctantly leave the car. Stiles had tagged along and was humming cheerfully, a tune that he had dubbed _We're Gonna Kill an Alpha Today_. It sounded like something that should have been on a twisted children's program. When Derek pulled up, Dr Deaton was tied and gagged in his back seat. Grace wrinkled her nose. "Are you sure we can get in?" Scott asked, and Stiles nodded, holding up a pair of wire cutters. If they managed to pull this off, it could be interesting.

Death, however, was not on Grace's to-do list quite yet.

She followed the boys into the school, Derek staying outside. When they reached the front office, Scott flicked on the PA system. "What do we do if this doesn't work?" Stiles asked, and Scott shrugged.

"I don't know."

"And if it does work?" Grace asked, raising an eyebrow. He looked at her and gave her an annoyed expression.

"I don't know!"

_How reassuring_, Grace thought sarcastically. She watched as Scott leaned into the microphone, readying himself to howl. What came from his mouth wasn't so much a howl as it was the sounds of a dying cat, and Grace tipped back her head and cackled, tears forming in her eyes. Stiles and Scott glared at her and she struggled to pull a straight face, leaning against the desk and avoiding their eyes as she struggled not to laugh. Stiles moved behind Scott and messaged his back. "Be a werewolf, not a teen wolf," he instructed, and the boy nodded, grabbing the base of the microphone. His eyes flashed amber as he let out a deep, throaty howl the seemed to shake the whole building. Grace wasn't laughing anymore.

* * *

When they returned outside, Derek sauntered up to them with a frown on his brow. "I'm going to kill all three of you," he snapped, pointing at them. What the hell was that? Were you trying to summon the whole damn state?" he reached up and rubbed his forehead with his hand.

Scott looked gingerly at Derek, smiling. "I didn't think it would be that loud," he admitted, and Derek rolled his eyes.

"It was awesome," Stiles grinned, and he earned a glare from the beta.

"Shut up."

"Don't be such a sour-wolf."

Grace snorted and covered her mouth with her hand while Scott slapped Stiles to shut him up. In the bushes not too far away, a deep growl could be heard. Grace frowned and squinted into the darkness, trying to pinpoint where the noise was coming from. Scott glanced into Derek's car. "What did you do with Deaton?"

Derek looked confused. "What?" he snapped, turning around to find the backseat of the car empty. "I didn't do anything!"

The girl continued peering into the darkness, hardly having time to utter a terrified "Derek, look out!" before a figure – the alpha – rushed toward the foursome, thrusting a clawed hand into Derek's back. The wolf snarled and growled, lifting the male up as he choked on his own blood. Grace couldn't move, her eyes were wide and fixed on the dying form of Derek Hale. Stiles tugged at her sleeve, trying to get her to move. "Grace, come on! Now!"

As though she was snapped out of a trance, the girl turned quickly, almost tripping as she stumbled her way up to the school, cursing the whole way there. Her eyes were brimming with tears as she glanced back, seeing the alpha toss Derek's limp body away like a rag-doll, wincing at the _smack_ he made as he hit the wall and fell to the leafy ground. "Oh god, oh god, oh god," she raked her fingers through her hair, panic setting in. "Derek, it just… it just killed Derek. Oh my god, Derek is dead."

Scott hushed her, placing a finger to his lips as Stiles 'locked' the door with the bolt cutters. "They won't hold," he said urgently. Grace looked around, tugging on Scott's sleeve as she darted away from the front door and further into the school building, her heart beating faster than ever.

* * *

**A/N: FINALLY GETTING TO 'NIGHT SCHOOL'. HARDCORE JACKSON/GRACE SHIPPERS ARE GOING TO LOVE THIS.**


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: Woo, 'Night School'! Man, I've been so excited for this. I'm also not entirely sure I'm happy with this chapter. The episode is so hard to write because there's so much going on and there are so many scene breaks. But I hope I did okay. ENJOY PART 1 OF NIGHT SCHOOL.**

* * *

_Monday after noon, _

As Alexander Hart left his daughter and ex-wife's house, he turned to look at his son disappointedly. "You should have said something," he snapped, and Roman averted his eyes. He didn't want this life, not for Grace. She was his litter sister, the hair-pulling nuisance that was supposed to steal his candy and tell on him when he snuck out to see girls. She wasn't supposed to be a cold hearted killer of the night. Sure, the strength, adrenaline and heightened senses were cool, but that was only part of the package deal. His father hadn't told him all of the terms and conditions when selling him the product.

There was the anger, the morphing into a deadly creature, the bloodlust… the urges to kill sometimes sent Roman over the edge and the last thing he wanted was for Grace to experience that. Three years and he was still having issues with controlling himself. His father rolled his eyes at the lack of response. "I knew I couldn't count on you," he snorted bitterly. Roman looked at him.

"I just don't think getting Grace involved in this is a good idea," he admitted, and his father rolled his eyes.

"She's already half-way there, Roman. You _know_ what Peter said. He can't have a pack of two, it doesn't work as well. When Grace accepts what she's to be and takes the bite, then Scott will follow too. When we have Scott on board, we'll have everyone. Derek will be dead, out of the picture. Clara won't want to give up her daughter. Do you see? Then Rachel is in the picture and we have a strong, healthy family that can never die. It's what everyone wants, Roman. Just not everyone gets a chance like this."

Roman would admit his father was a talented man when it came to convincing people. But nothing could ever assure Roman that this was the right thing to do. He was so scared for his sister's safety, for his mother… but least of all, for Alex. The man was willing to do whatever to get what he wanted and Roman knew he wouldn't hesitate in killing Grace or Clara if they didn't want the bite… that was what scared him most.

* * *

_Present_

The image of Derek's dead body kept flashing through Grace's mind, making her head throb and her throat swell. She had just witnessed a man dying right before her, she'd seen him thrown around like nothing… it scared her more than Scott wolfing out on her ever could. She panted as she ran behind Scott and Stiles, turning into a classroom as the boys started to push the desk in front of the door. "Wait!" Stiles interrupted, holding Scott off. "This isn't going to hold him off," he stated.

"I know!" Scott cried, pushing the desk harder.

"It's your boss!"

"What?"

"Deaton! Dr Deaton!" Stiles yelped as though it was plainly obvious. Grace blinked, using the sleeve of her jumper to wipe a tear from her cheek. She was shaking, obviously unaccustomed to the horror that both Stiles and Scott had been experiencing in the past few weeks. While they had been off fighting werewolves, she'd been doe-eyed over Jackson and in the freaking hospital. She shivered, unsure if it was from the cold or from the danger.

"He's a nutcase," she added shakily, almost stammering through her sentence.

"No! It can't be him, I can feel it. It's not him."

"Oh, come on," Stiles continued. "He disappears and then that thing shows up ten seconds later and throws around the sour-pup like he's a damn doll?"

"Derek's not dead, he can't be dead."

"Blood spurted out of his mouth, okay? That doesn't exactly qualify as a minor injury! He's dead and we're next!"

Grace's eyes widened, the image of blood trickling down Derek's chin filling her mind again. Oh, god, she just wanted to block it out and never have to see it again. She reached down and pinched her arm, Stiles frowning at her. "What are you doing?" he asked, and she laughed.

"This has to be a dream," Grace mumbled, shaking her head. "This isn't real. Scott isn't even a werewolf. None of this happened; I've just had a very vivid, very long dream. I didn't sleep in the same bed as Jackson Whittemore. He's still with Lydia. Allison doesn't exist; she's a figment of my imagination!"

Scott blinked and looked at Stiles while Stiles blinked and looked at Scott. "Is she going insane?" he whispered, and Stiles shrugged his shoulders, moving from the desk to place his hands on Grace's arms, staring at her intently.

"Grace, listen," he said, his voice firm and unwavering. She nodded dumbly. "This isn't a dream and I need you to focus. We're going to be okay. Okay?"

"What do we do?" she asked, and Stiles nodded once.

"We get to my jeep and get out of here. Scott seriously considers quitting his job." She looked at the windows, shaking her head.

"They don't open, Stiles. We can't- we can't break it, either," she said, looking at Scott as though she'd known just what he was going to say. He frowned.

"Then we run really fast," he said, turning to the window and pressing his nose against the glass, peering out into the darkness. Grace and Stiles followed his lead, eyes scanning the emptiness of the schoolyard. Their breathing was heavy and their heartbeats were fast. "Stiles, what's wrong with the hood of your jeep?" Scott asked, and Stiles scrambled over to him, seeing the dented hood and cursing. He opened his mouth to say something, but the trio were cut off by the smashing of glass overhead. A thick, black object hit the floor and Grace ducked, covering her head as she peeked cautiously at it.

"Is that the battery…?" she asked, and Stiles' eyes widened as he dropped another string of angry curses. In the dim lighting, the three of them could see three silver scratch-marks on the battery.

* * *

They were back in the hallways, Stiles' torch shining a dim light for the three of them. It didn't stop Grace nervously stumbling and she glanced at the boy's apologetically, feeling as though the weight of the world was on her shoulders. She just couldn't do anything right tonight, could she? After coming down from her hysterical daze, she was unfocused and clumsy, causing unwanted noise. Stiles reached back and gripped her hand in an attempt to ease her mind and it worked if only a bit.

"We need to go somewhere without windows," Stiles whispered, and Scott sighed.

"Every single building in this school has windows."

Grace blinked, tugging Stiles on the sleeve. "The locker room," she said, and they were off. Of course, navigating the huge school in the dark wasn't as easy as in the day and they got lost more than once though they finally found themselves in the male locker rooms. Scott ordered Stiles to call his dad but, as Grace would if she had she been asked to call her mother, Stiles refused. She completely understood where he was coming from – they couldn't put anyone else in this danger. They'd already made it bad for themselves by calling the alpha here in the first place. Scott slumped down in a chair, defeated.

The idea of Derek's care came to mind and they discussed it, Grace shivering as Stiles mentioned taking the keys from the dead wolf's body. She really didn't want to, but then again, dying was not on her current agenda. As they approached the door leading outside, Stiles made a grab for the door but Scott jerked him back. Grace froze, hearing the same thing as he did. She cursed under her breath, stepping backwards and crouching slightly to avoid being seen. "Into a locker," she hissed, darting to her own hiding place. Each of the teens closed a locker behind them. A figure stepped past them, stopping at Scott's locker and pulling it open.

The janitor gave a scream.

Stiles was the quickest to act, jumping from his locker to shush the janitor who was having none of his shit. "Get out of here, now!" he ordered, and though the teens tried to explain what was going on, he urged them out the door, slamming it closed behind them. It was not a second later that they heard him scream again, and Grace's stomach plummeted as she knew what had happened. A crimson splatter painted the square window of the door followed by two bloody hand prints as the desperate howls of the janitor filled their ears. Grace bit her lip so hard she tasted blood.

Grace stepped back, her breath heavy as she called for Stiles and Scott to follow her. She took off running, ignoring the sounds of the last breath of the janitor.

* * *

She wasn't sure how long they had run aimlessly around the school for, but Grace was exhausted. She stopped, bending and clutching her stomach. Her wounds were on fire and she was pretty sure she had busted the stitches for a second time. She timorously touched her hand to her side, sure enough feeling the sticky, warm blood on her fingertips. She cursed under her breath. Stiles looked at her, his chest rising and falling quickly. Scott was the only one not panting. "Are you okay?" Stiles asked, and Grace nodded meekly.

"Just busted my stitches again, I'm fine," she said, though the pain was intense and burning her whole left side. She puffed her cheeks out, wishing she'd accepted Lydia's invitation to hang tonight, seeing as Allison was meant to be with Scott. "Let's keep going," she said, nodding once.

They soon reached the nearest exit and Stiles and Scott went running at the door only to clash heads with it. It wasn't moving. Grace's stomach churned at the idea of them being locked here with an insane, psycho, murdering wolf. She sighed, leaning against the wall as she slowly allowed herself to slide down to the ground. How could this have happened? They had a plan; they were supposed to have killed him by now! Nervously playing with her hands, Grace avoided looks from the boys. Stiles offered her a hand and they kept moving, though Scott stopped to glance across at the roof they could see from the second story building.

It was the alpha, and he was running straight towards them. They took off running again just as it smashed through the window and into the wall of the corridor. Grace's insides burned and she wasn't sure how much longer she could go without a break – her body was still recovering and she was overworking herself too much. It hadn't even been a week since she woke and now, it felt like Coach was making her do suicides with the lacrosse team. As she began to lag behind, she pushed herself harder and faster. She still wasn't used to this whole power thing she had going on, but she caught up again though the pain didn't ease at all. If anything, it worsened.

They turned, flying down a staircase and out a door, leaving the wolf behind. They eventually made it back to the locker rooms and pressed themselves against the lockers around the corner, their breathing the only sound heard save from the deep growls the alpha let out. "Go," Scott breathed, and they moved quickly through steaming boilers before they were cut off by a snarl that was unmistakably ahead of them. "What do we do?" Scott asked, stepping back. He glanced to his side, seeing a heavy set door leading into a small room. He had an idea. Stiles knew what he was thinking and he tossed his keys into the room before darting for cover.

The wolf fell for it.

It tore into the room and the three of them wasted no time in slamming the door, pushing a desk in front of it so that the beast was unable to escape. Angry rumbles could be heard through the door but, for now, the teens remained triumphant. Stiles got on his knees and peered through the window, taunting the beast. "Stiles!" Grace hissed, "stop that! You'll make it mad!"

Stiles rolled his eyes. "I'm not scared of it! It's in there and we're out here." He turned to the werewolf. "You're not going any-"

He was cut off by the unmistakable sound of the werewolf escaping and Grace groaned, taking a deep breath to calm herself. "This just keeps getting better and better," she huffed, following Stiles and Scott out of the room. As they were moving through the steam from the boilers, Scott stopped.

"Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Stiles asked, frowning. Grace strained her ears.

"It's a phone ringing," she muttered, fear pumping through her veins. Scott recognized that ringtone.

"It's Allison's phone," he breathed.

* * *

They raced to the lobby, Scott firing questions at Allison as soon as he laid eyes on her. Apparently, a text message had been sent to her phone. Grace covered her mouth as Allison explained and Scott frowned, revealing that he hadn't sent that text message. "Jackson drove me," she confirmed, and Grace just about threw up.

"Jackson's here?" she shrieked, pushing past Scott and Stiles. Allison looked at her.

"You didn't send Lydia or Jackson messages, did you?" she asked, and Grace shook her head. "I- I called Lydia and asked if she could give me a lift here, she said she was coming anyway because you had texted her, Grace. Then Jackson called Lydia and asked where you were because he got the same message, but he thought you were with Lydia…" Grace's mind went blank.

Somewhere around this school a blood-thirsty werewolf was lurking, and so was Jackson Whittemore.

At that moment, Lydia and Jackson burst through the door. Jackson was positively fuming, glaring at Grace as he entered. "What the hell are you doing, Grace?" he demanded, and she faltered.

"I didn't send that text," she managed, and his face fell at the sudden realisation that they'd all been played. She felt sick; her stomach churned and threatened to throw up her last meal as she covered her mouth with her hand again. "We're going to die," she mumbled, and Stiles shook his head.

"No, we're not."

"Can we go now?" Lydia pleaded, and Grace felt Jackson's fingers lace with her own. She glanced at him, her eyes wide with fear, and she didn't let go. A creaking sounded overhead and Scott screamed for everyone to run. Grace couldn't anymore. Her energy was gone, drained from her body. Her breathing was rugged and her mind was racing at a thousand miles an hour, her body struggling to keep up. She tried her hardest to run, Jackson clutching her hand the whole way until they ended up in their cafeteria, locking the doors behind them.

Everyone was hysterical, talking over each other as Grace let go of Jackson's hand and made her way to the furthest corner of the classroom, sitting on one of the tables while holding her head in her hands. She couldn't breathe; all this talking was suffocating her. She had always thought herself as a headstrong, never-back-down kind girl but, she felt helpless and scared. She wanted to feel okay again. She could vaguely hear Scott talking about Derek who supposedly committed all those murders around Beacon Hills, but she couldn't bring herself to listen to the conversation.

She reached down and touched her stitches again, frowning at the sight of more blood. The wounds were worsening and she couldn't do anything about it. As her body cooled down, the temperature of the night hit her and suddenly, her thin sweater wasn't enough to keep her warm. She shivered, grabbing a box of tissues and dabbing at her bleeding gingerly until a hand reached out, gently taking the tissues from her. Grace looked up, face to face with Jackson. "Let me do it," he murmured, lifting her shirt more. He grabbed fresh tissues from the box and tossed the old ones in the sink.

"This wasn't supposed to happen," Grace mumbled, feeling tears prickling at the back of her eyes like hot needles. "All I wanted to do was go home and sleep and not- not _die._"

Jackson looked up, giving her a sharp look. "We're not dying here. Not today."

For some reason, she almost believed him.

"You're shivering," he noted, his fingers brushing the goose-bumps on her arm softly. He shrugged off his favourite leather jacket – the one he'd given to her at the party, funnily enough – and draped it over her shoulders. She pulled her arms through, giving him a grateful look.

"Thanks," she whispered, and he nodded, leaning over to wet a new set of tissues. The blood was slowing now due to her lack of movement and he gently pressed against it, holding it there. They were so close she could feel his breath mixing with hers. He could smell her perfume. He looked her in the eye, licking his lips before she glanced away, guilt setting in.

"It's not Derek Hale, is it?" Jackson asked, and Grace furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. "It's something… something else."

"Please don't say anything to Lydia and Allison, Jackson," Grace pleaded. "It's… this whole thing is so complicated and if either of them find out…"

Jackson swallowed, shaking his head. "I want a full explanation when this is over. And Grace?"

She looked up, furrowing her eyebrows.

"In case we don't survive-"

The brunette cut him off, raising her finger to his lips. "We're not dying here. Not today," she repeated his earlier words and he chuckled, opening his mouth to reply when Lydia shouted.

"Just call your dad and tell him to bring someone with a gun and decent aim!"

Stiles was frantic. He didn't want his father here, not with the alpha running around. He had already lost his mother, hadn't he? He _needed_ his father. Grace bit her lip harshly as Stiles opened his phone, dialling his father's number with a pained look on his face. When his father didn't answer, he left him a quick voicemail. A sudden banging on the door caught everyone's attention and Grace swallowed, hopping down from her seat on the table as her eyes widened. "We've got to move," Jackson said, grabbing her hand. She squeezed gently, no intentions of letting go any time soon.

* * *

With an alpha wolf on the prowl wanting to make you part of a pack and murder your friends, was it a stupid idea to go out of the reasonably safe place?

Yes.

Grace said nothing as Lydia created her perfect 'Molotov Cocktail' for Scott to use as a weapon, and she said nothing when Allison begged Scott to stay, calling him out on his lying with a shaky voice. What could she say that would be of any relevance? She continued to hold Jackson's hand in a death grip, avoiding all eyes. What would they do if Scott didn't come back? This night had turned horrible – it was supposed to be a quick job. Get in, attract the alpha, get out and then kill the alpha. It shouldn't have ended up like this. Four hours, they'd been trapped in this stupid school, running and running until they couldn't anymore from a beast that shouldn't have even existed. After breaking a long kiss with Allison, Scott left the room.

Scott was gone maybe five minutes before Grace stood up, letting go of Jackson's hand to shrug his jacket off. She needed to do something, she needed to go after him and make sure he was okay. Grace was stronger than the rest of them – not as strong as Scott, but she came close. And he needed back-up. She couldn't sit by and let her best friend possible die. Jackson looked up at her, confused as she handed his jacket back to him. "I need to go make sure he's okay," she breathed, and Jackson shook his head. A chorus of 'no's made her frown and Grace glanced at Jackson and Stiles.

"I'm-I'm stronger now, you guys know that. I can _help_ him. Scott is strong but he's not invincible. We might have a fighting chance at getting those keys and getting out. And… what if Scott doesn't make it? Someone needs to bring the keys back. He can't kill us both."

She was right and Stiles knew it. He shrunk back into his seat, burying his head in his hands. He felt so _useless_. Jackson shook his head and stood up as Grace moved toward the door, expression stern. "No, you're not going."

The brunette turned and looked up at him, smiling softly. "Somebody has to."

He shook his head. "_No._ He'll- he'll kill you."

Grace bit her lip, running her fingers through her hair. "I'll be fine."

"Grace, please-"

She flew at him, smashing their lips together as her hands held his shoulders. She was desperate to be close to him just once before she left, desperate to let him know how she really felt. Her lips moved urgently with his and he gripped her waist, holding her close as the surprise left his eyes and they fell closed, Jackson returning the kiss with as much determination as Grace. It didn't feel like kissing Lydia, it felt like knowing that Grace would be okay, because she'd always come back to him.

After a moment, Grace broke the kiss but not the closeness. She rested her forehead against his, standing on her tip-toes. "I promise you forever," she breathed. She gave a gentle chuckle. "I never break my promises. So I'll see you soon." She pressed her lips to his once more in a lingering kiss, her heart beating in her ears. She had just kissed Jackson freaking Whittemore and she damn well liked it.

Parting from him, she gave him one last look before opening the door, walking out into the dim halls.


	18. Chapter 18

As Grace walked slowly through the halls of Beacon Hills high, her hands shook. She was completely and utterly terrified but something inside of her told her she needed to make a stand. She needed this alpha to know she wasn't afraid… or was it admiration she was looking for? She wanted to know what it felt like to have control over her own mind and body; she craved the feeling of confidence in her actions. This whole night, she'd been a shaking, shivering, blubbering mess. Was it so bad that she felt she needed to prove herself?

And she'd kissed Jackson.

Why she'd done it, she didn't know. She kept replaying the action in her mind over and over, feeling what his lips felt like and tasting him all over again. It hadn't been an ideal second-first-kiss but… it had been nice and, honestly, it had calmed Grace's shaking nerves. Licking her lips, she found that she was at the entrance to the gym. Furrowing her eyebrows, she strained her ears. Scott's scent had led her here but… there was something else.

The strong smell of blood filled her nose and Grace winced. Scott must have found the janitor. Pushing the door open, she slowly descended the stairs just in time to see Scott underneath the bleachers. He was reaching for the keys hanging off the janitor's body and Grace shuddered, thankful that she didn't have to be doing that. A noise caught her attention and the brunette glanced around, seeing the control pad for the bleachers. A clawed hand snaked out from the darkness and dread set in Grace's stomach.

"Scott, get out of there!" she screamed, and the bleachers began to move inwards. There was nothing she could have done and it angered her. Her breath hitched as the boy raced toward safety, almost stumbling as he made it out from under the bleachers just in time. He raced over to Grace, his eyes wide, hands on his knees.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded, panting.

"I- I wanted to help you. We could take him down-"

"You're not even a wolf, Grace!"

"But I'm stronger, Scott!"

He shook his head, opening his mouth to reply as his eyes locked on something behind him, any words he had planned falling away as his expression changed, his stomach plummeting. Moving slowly toward them was the alpha, a low snarl bubbling in his throat. Scott stepped back and Grace whirled around. Raising his explosive Molotov, Scott threw it toward the alpha and, had it actually caught light like it was supposed to, it would have been brilliant. "Oh, shit," Grace breathed, and the alpha let out a snarl, launching itself at the two of them.

It hit Scott with a harsh smack, sending him flying across the room. He barely had time to groan in pain before the alpha tipped his head back, releasing a bloodcurdling howl that seemed to shake the school around them. A sudden pain developed inside Grace as though someone had doused her body in gas and set her alight. Like Scott, she fell to her knees before writhing in pain on the floor of the gym, screaming in agony. She hadn't ever known pain such as this and her life flashed before her eyes, her breathing coming in raspy gasps as her lungs begged for the air she couldn't find. Grace's throat burned from screaming, her insides stirred as she tried to control herself.

Then, it was gone.

She lay face down on the floor with her head on her arms, panting and sweating vigorously. She tried to stand or at least sit, finding that she had no energy whatsoever to do so. Scott managed to stand and, when he turned to her, his features had turned wolfish and terrifying. He stared at her, breathing heavily before taking off in a run toward the doors. "Scott, don't!" Grace tried, but it was no good. The alpha approached her, snarling in her face as it got closer. She could feel the hot breath on her skin, the red eyes glaring at her. It seemed to be asking her just one question. _Death or the bite?_

It wasn't as though she had a choice.

The alpha, of course, was going to bite her whether she liked it or not. Grace's cooperation with his plans was what would decide if she lived or died. The alpha moved closer, a pink tongue darting out to lick his jaws as his eyes grew menacing. Grace's eyes widened as she tried to scramble back. Teeth bared and lips pulled back in a threatening sneer, the alpha kept coming. He reached a clawed hand, grabbing the hem of Grace's shirt and pulling harshly, exposing her gashes from Scott, leaking blood where the stiches had burst and began bleeding. Her breath hitched in her throat as the alpha continued to tear at her shirt, the remains of her sweater barely covering her anymore as shards fell around her. With a growl, the creature sunk his teeth into her side, right where her stitches were.

Grace let out a scream, a mixture of terror and pain. She didn't want this, she didn't want to become one of them, but the more she tried to wake up, the more she realised this was her reality. The pain was insane though the initial bite didn't last long. Licking his lips, the alpha shot Grace one last look before taking off. In the distance, she could hear sirens. Glancing down, Grace noticed that her bite didn't even look like a bite. The scars mixed with the bite just looked terrible, like she'd had an accident with a chainsaw or something. Whimpering, Grace removed what was left of her sweater and balled it up, pressing it against her side as she used all her energy to stand and make her way over to the stairs, her heart pounding in her ears.

Sirens began to fill the air and as she made her way down the corridor, she could hear Jackson's frantically cutting through the air. "McCall, where's Grace?"

Scott's tone was hysterical. "She was right behind me!" he cried out. Grace opened her mouth to call out, but her mind refused to cooperate and nothing came out but a pathetic whine. She could see them now, crowded around the open door. Allison was hysterical while Lydia remained quiet, chewing her thumb nail anxiously. Stiles had his cheeks puffed out, something he did when he was stressed, his hands running over his scalp relentlessly.

Then, he spotted her.

"Grace?" he asked, cautiously moving toward her. His eyes drifted to her bare upper body, the blood dripping from her torso, and he covered his mouth with his hand. Jackson looked up, the colour draining from his face as he took in her broken, shivering frame. She held fragments of her torn sweater in her hands and they were covered in red as she had tried to stop the bleeding. They'd long since failed, he could see, as crimson still poured down her side and drained into her skirt.

The girl glanced down at herself. "I look like shit," she croaked, noticing her torn tights. Her Vans were splattered with blood; her skirt had been turned around and was now back-to front. As if snapped out of his stupefaction at her words, Jackson rushed forward and removed his jacket for her for the second time that night. She graciously accepted it, shame colouring her freckled cheeks as she did the zip up though the leather rubbing against her wounds caused her pain to flame up in her side. "Thanks," she whispered, and he nodded. He was terrified of finding out what had happened to her – honestly, the lack of shirt and chaotic organisation of her clothes made him believe the worst. They were, after all, being hunted by Derek…

Nobody said anything as the sheriff jogged toward them, waving at them to follow him out of the school. As he led them down the main stairwell that took them outside, he turned to Scott and Stiles. "Are you sure it was Derek Hale?" he asked, frowning. They nodded in the affirmative.

Scanning the parking lot, Grace spotted the ambulance and started toward the van, the pain in her right side flaring angrily. Jackson followed, afraid to leave her side though he didn't touch her. She wanted him to take her hand and tell her it was going to be okay, but he didn't… he just silently followed, eyes diverted from her. She swallowed down the lump in her throat, deciding it better that he didn't want to talk to her anyway. There was no way she could put Jackson through what Allison had been through with Scott these past few days and though she had finally admitted to herself that she had feelings for him, things had taken a turn for the worst.

She paramedics approached her, frowning as she used her blood stained hands to lift the jacket that was covering her wounds. One of the women gasped, biting down hard on her lip. Grace smiled sheepishly. "It probably looks worse than it is," she mumbled, glancing down.

"Can you take of the jacket for me, sweetie? I need full access to the wounds."

Blinking, Grace hesitated before she shrugged the clothing off, handing it back to Jackson. Her cheeks warmed as she sat in the back of the ambulance in just her bra, humiliated that people were seeing so much of her. The paramedics seemed to have put two and two together, not questioning Grace about what happened. They dabbed at her bite and re-opened stiches with wet towels followed by antiseptics, making her hiss in pain. "Sorry, Grace."

"I'm fine," she replied through gritted teeth. "Just stings a little." She looked up at Jackson. "You can go," she told him with a nod. "Your parents just pulled up."

Jackson frowned and looked behind enough, surely enough seeing his parents. He didn't want to leave, but the look on her face gave him the feeling that he was unwelcome. His frown still on his face, he placed the jacket on the floor of the ambulance for when she was to go home, nodding at her once before turning and heading off.

* * *

"It's the full moon tonight."

Stiles glanced over at Grace, furrowing his eyebrows. He hadn't learnt of her bite yet, assuming that her new injuries were just more scratches. He nodded his head, spooning cereal into his mouth. It was Wednesday evening and it marked two days since the alpha attacked everyone at the school. It also marked two days since Grace had talked to Jackson. He hadn't tried to speak with her, either, afraid that he would drive her away if she didn't get her space. She still hadn't told anyone what really happened – Jackson, Lydia and Allison were assuming that the lack of shirt meant something bad (something sexual) had gone down, and Scott and Stiles though the alpha had just tried to scare Grace. She bit her lip.

"Stiles, I…"

She was interrupted by sheriff Stilinski calling, "Stiles, Scott's here!" then Scott entering the room a moment later. She blinked, standing quickly and brushing down the pleats on her skirt. "I need to go," she said with a nod. "I'll see you guys later."

She gave Stiles and Scott no time to answer before she left, flying down the stairs and into the fading light. It was the full moon and she'd been bitten. What was she going to do? Taking a deep breath, she glanced toward the forest. She could go to Derek's and stay there for the night. It was deep in the woods, well-hidden and didn't involve being tied up. Would she be okay there by herself? She decided to do it, clutching her shoulder bag tightly as she began the trek to Derek's abandoned house.

Grace arrived just as darkness was falling, the trees stealing the light and darkening the usually dim home even more. She'd been here once or twice – enough times to know where it was – though never inside. It had the potential to be a very nice home. Sighing, she ran her hands through her hair and plopped her bag down beside the stairs, an odd scent catching her attention. She frowned, glancing around as a floorboard creaked quietly overhead. Someone else was here. Shaking, Grace moved slowly to the stairs and climbed one, hand on the dusty railing as she walked, head cocked to the side and senses alert. For once, she was more curious than she was scared though the possibility of her company being a threat did make her nervous. Chewing her bottom lip, she reached the top of the stairs and looked around what was left of the second story of the house.

Derek Hale emerged from a dark room, a small smirk on his face. "So you took the bite." Jumping at the sight of him, Grace cursed.

"I didn't make the choice," Grace mumbled, glancing at him. "The alpha made it for me." Derek raised a brow.

"Your first full moon… why did you come here?" he asked, curious.

"Where else would I go? I thought you were dead and… this is the first place I could think of that was away from everyone. I don't… I don't want to hurt people, Derek, please…"

"You'll be fine here. But Scott needs me there or he'll end up killing someone. Trust me, you'll be fine. Just don't fight it, try and stay calm. The best you can do is keep calm. I'll be in town if you decide to make an appearance."

He hesitated before jumping over the railing down to the first floor, leaving her alone.

XXX

By the time the moon was in the sky, shining brightly and beautifully, Grace's breathing had quickened a considerable amount. Her heart beat wildly and she began to sweat, feeling the changes setting in her body. Noises filled her mind, but she wasn't sure which ones were real and which were in her imagination. She could feel her skin prickling and soon, she lost control. Her nose became snout-like, her eyes flashed amber and claws replaced her painted nails, as did fangs her teeth. Of course, she hadn't sprouted hair everywhere, but she still looked like a monster.

If her consciousness was still there, she knew she'd hate herself for this.

She gave growl, her senses returning to normal – if she could even call the heightened senses normal – as one thing crossed her mind. _Blood_. She wanted blood more than anything else in the world. Looking around, the werewolf spotted two figures standing out in the forest. Their blood smelt odd – like her own. The wolf was confused as she bounded down the stairs toward them.

Though their features were wolfed, the Grace inside of the beast recognised them immediately.

"Welcome to the family, Grace," her father smirked, and behind him, Roman swallowed nervously. _What a welcome to the family it was._

* * *

**A/N: When it gets to the point where Jackson and Grace have to show their trailer, should I write that in the form of a script? I'm a bit unsure as to how to go about it.**


	19. Chapter 19

Jackson was growing impatient. He had tried to give Grace her space after their experience at the school that night, but when she began to completely ignore his messages and calls, he grew angry. She had kissed him, made a promise, and left him? Was she paying him back for all those years again? It didn't seem like her. Then again, Grace hadn't seemed like herself at all lately. Sighing, he ran his hand through his hair as he stood on her doorstep on Saturday morning. Deciding to go against his mind, Jackson reached over and pressed the doorbell.

Clara, her mother, answered a moment later with a small smile. "Jackson, right?" she asked, wiping her hands on a dishtowel as she beckoned him inside. "You were at the hospital while Grace was recovering. It's nice to see you."

He smiled, nodding. He liked Grace's mom – though he couldn't tell that they were even related by first glance, they'd talked every now and then in the hospital and she reminded him so much of his first love. "Do you mind if I go up and see her?" he asked, and she shrugged her shoulders.

"She's sleeping, but it's about time she woke up, anyway. It's almost ten."

He nodded, thanking her as he turned and navigated through the house, walking up the stars before he hesitated outside of her bedroom. Did he even want to see her? He wanted _answers._ Jackson sighed, opening the door to her bedroom. She seemed to have been expecting him and she sat in her bed, quilt drawn to her chin and knees up as she rested her head against the headboard. He wanted to admire the way the light hit Grace's face, accenting her freckles and adding an extra sparkle to her eye, but he shoved the thought out of his mind, now lost for words.

"Hi, Jackson," she mumbled, glancing away. What else could she say? He frowned, suddenly finding his voice.

"What the hell, Grace?" he demanded, glaring at her.

She blinked her eyes, her heart beat increasing slightly. "I… I'm sorry, Jackson, I just…"

"Just what? Kissed me then acted like you didn't care about me? Left me wondering what I'd done wrong? Made me feel like complete shit?"

"I didn't mean to, but things have happened, Jackson!"

Grace's heart rate was rising dangerously fast as her unfair frustration boiled her blood. She wanted to tell Jackson the truth, she wanted to trust him and love him. But what if she hurt him like Scott had hurt her? She couldn't risk that, he was too good a person. And what if she did more than just injure him? If it hadn't been for Derek, Grace wouldn't be alive right now… she couldn't always count on other people to protect her. Sighing, she ran a hand through her hair and looked up at him, trying desperately to control herself. She wasn't doing very well.

"You can't just kiss me and then ignore me for a week, Grace!" Jackson accused, his voice rising with her anger. Her hands shook, her pulse raced.

"You don't understand!"

"Did you do it to get back at me?" he demanded, and Grace could feel herself failing to control her body and mind. She looked up away from him, her breathing heavy as she covered her face with her arm, feeling her features beginning to change. She panted, her teeth turning to fangs and fingernails turning to claws.

"Jackson, get out of here," she huffed. His eyes were wide, terror overtaking him. The werewolf turned, snarling angrily, her snout wrinkled. Jackson backed up, his hands shaking with fear as he felt around for the door. She stood, growling angrily before she leapt for the window, jumping out of the two-storey high house and taking off into the street in mid daylight. Jackson's only concern now was that someone would see her and he grabbed his phone, assuming Scott McCall had something to do with this. Scott answered on the second ring.

"McCall, it's Grace… she wolfed out or something and- and I know you have something to do with this. You have to help her."

"What? Jackson, are you insane? Grace couldn't have…"

"Well she did, okay?" he interrupted, snapping at Scott. "And she's running around Beacon Hills in broad daylight!"

He heard McCall curse. "I'll find her Jackson, don't worry."

Jackson couldn't _stop_ worrying.

* * *

Alright, so Grace being a werewolf was a very minor setback in their relationship, but Jackson didn't care. There was something about her that made her impossible to forget and she was on his mind the whole time between when he called Scott and when Scott called back to confirm she was okay. He had left Grace's place a while ago and told Clara they were going out together for an excuse as to why Grace wasn't actually in her house. He walked aimlessly around, wondering where the hell Grace could have gone in such a state.

He didn't know how her human mind worked let alone her werewolf mind and although he was kind of… well, taken aback by the fact that she was a werewolf, it didn't really deter him. Perhaps it should have. Perhaps Jackson should have gone running away sounding the alarm to anybody and everybody. But he couldn't ever do that to her. She wasn't a bad person and, as much as she believed this werewolf thing defined her, Jackson found he never would.

His phone buzzed in his hand and he glanced down, seeing Scott's name on the caller ID. Jackson clicked 'answer' and put the phone to his ear, wasting no time. "McCall, where is she? Did you find her?"

"Yeah, she's okay. Nobody saw her as far as I know. She's at mine if you want to come see her. But… none of what happened before, okay? Something you did made her turn, so no more of that."

"I'll be there in five," Jackson mumbled, hanging up his phone. He had left his car at Grace's stupidly enough. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he walked quickly toward Scott's house. He couldn't help but worry about what he'd find when he got there, but he chewed the inside of his cheek and didn't bother knocking as he reached the front door ten minutes later. He located Scott's room and gave he and Stiles a passive greeting before looking at Grace, eyes filled with worry. She refused to look at him and she sat with her arms wrapped around herself, shivering slightly. She was still in her pyjamas.

Jackson wasn't sure what to say, really. He swallowed, tentatively moving to sit beside her on the bed. The action seemed to stir something inside of her and she collapsed into him, burying her head into his shoulder and letting out an angry sob. Jackson held her close, feeling slightly embarrassed that McCall and Stiles were there to see what was happening. He looked up at them and frowned. "Can we get some privacy, please?" he snapped, glancing back down at Grace.

She sobbed into him, clutching him closely. She was _scared_ and she hadn't ever wanted him to see her like that. What if she could never learn to control herself? Scott had told her about times when it was getting heated with Allison and he'd wolfed out, or times when he'd just been so angry he almost wasn't able to control himself. But… Allison was also his anchor. What if Jackson was the same for her? She glanced up at him, feeling foolish as she wiped her eyes and shook her head. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be such a mess," she mumbled, sighing.

Jackson shook his head. "It's… it's fine. I…" he wasn't sure what to say, so he trailed off, his words lost.

"I guess you want to talk about what just happened?" she asked cautiously, and he gave a small nod, licking his lips. He didn't look at her. "I suppose you already know what I am, then."

He nodded again.

"It happened the night at the school," she told him, and he could remember her with her bloodied side, her shirt gone. "I got bitten and, well, if I don't join the pack… my dad's going to kill me. Or the alpha will."

Jackson frowned and looked up. "Your dad, the dude that disappeared for three years, comes back a werewolf?" Grace nodded. "And your bother?"

"Yeah… although something tells me he's not too keen on everything."

"What are you going to do?"

"Kill the alpha and kill... kill whoever I need to so I can live normally again."

Jackson swallowed, her words making him slightly nervous. Of course, she wasn't killing anyone who hadn't killed before, but… the idea of her being a murderer worried him. What if she lost control? He couldn't bear to think of anything of the sort. He knew the alpha needed to die, though. Didn't that mean that Grace and Scott would be cured? Doubtful, but it was worth a try, right? Jackson sighed and scratched the back of his neck, wondering what to say next.

"The alpha kept us alive so that… so that I would be part of his pack. Apparently he thinks I'll be a strong, talented wolf. My dad told me that in the forest the first night I phased… I don't know who the alpha is, though. But I need to kill him."

"I want to help," Jackson stated, unsure if he'd regret this later.

"No."

"Grace, please-"

"I won't have you getting killed because of me."

Jackson frowned, hesitating before he leaned in and placed an urgent kiss on her lips, his hand tight on her waist. She didn't respond for a moment, but allowed herself to melt into his touch, kissing him back with just as much force as he was using on her. At that moment, Scott burst into the room. "Stop that! She's going to…"

When he saw what they were doing, he wrinkled his nose. They pulled apart, Grace blushing and Jackson looking irritated. "What the hell, McCall?"

"You… you have to wait until she can control it before you can… do that," Stiles mumbled, almost feeling as though he'd caught them in the act of something much worse than kissing. Grace sighed and glanced over at Jackson, who pressed his lips together.

"Alright, fine, no kissing. But she's still my girlfriend."

Grace blinked. "What?"

"You heard me."

"How do you know I even want to be your girlfriend?" she asked, smirking as she teased him. Jackson rolled his eyes, amusement on his features.

"You do," he said knowingly.

She certainly wouldn't argue over _that_.

* * *

Grace hugged her jacket to her body, glad she'd worn jeans tonight instead of something else. It was Stiles' first game and she was excited… also, she'd be seeing Jackson play. She furrowed her eyebrows slightly, trying to block out everyone's conversations. With a sigh, she glanced over at Scott and Jackson. They were talking about something and she tried to ignore it, but she couldn't help but hear Scott's voice in her ear. "There are hunters, too."

"Hunters?" Jackson almost laughed. "You've got to be kidding me." He glanced around, spotting Allison in her family and frowning curiously. "Is it them?" he asked, but Scott tried to deny it. "It is, isn't it? That makes sense…"

"Why?" Scott asked, and Jackson raised an eyebrow.

"Don't you listen to her like, ever? Argent means silver in French."

Just then, the coach came over and slung his arms around both Jackson and Scott's shoulders. "Just what I like to see, old enemies turned friends," he said cheerfully. Scott wrinkled his nose. "Remember kids, there's no 'me' in 'team'!"

Jackson blinked. Scott glanced at the coach, frowning. "Yes there is, coach!"

Grace sniggered and looked away, finding her gaze on the Argents. Kate was leaning toward Allison and whispering and she could have sworn she heard Jackson's name… did Allison like Jackson now that she and Scott were through? Grace frowned, tapping into their conversation. "If I was still in high school," Kate said wistfully, grinning. "Or even if I was a substitute teacher…"

"You're disgusting," Allison laughed.

"Seriously, you should be all over that."

"I think he's with Grace."

"Who's Grace?"

Grace glanced away just in time for Allison to point in her direction. "Her. She's my friend."

Kate shrugged her shoulders. "Average looking," she mumbled in disapproval. "She doesn't even hold a candle to you."

"Kate!" Allison cried, shoving her aunt though her tone was playful. "She's my friend," the brunette repeated, and Grace smiled softly to herself at Allison's loyalty. Chewing her bottom lip, she watched as Kate furrowed her eyebrows at Jackson before turning to Allison's dad, whispering.

"You know how we thought there must have been another beta wolf with Derek?"

Chris nodded, raising an eyebrow. Kate pointed down to Jackson. "Is it me, or does he just seem like the type?" she asked, watching him. He laughed with the other boys on the team, looking confident in their possible win. Not to mention he was a terrific lacrosse player... he was talented, cocky and gorgeous. Grace realised that Jackson Whittemore did, in fact, seem like the werewolf type. She chewed her bottom lip anxiously, walking over to the bleachers and finding the first spot she could as the game began.

* * *

Beacon Hills won.

Well, really, Beacon Hills kicked ass.

Scott, Jackson and the rest of the team made their way back into the locker room, chanting excitedly as they jostled and grinned and whooped. Grace tried to avoid the onslaught of sweaty teenage boys but found herself caught in the middle of the stampede in her desperate attempt to locate either Scott or Jackson. She was walking, pushing through the lacrosse team when someone tapped her shoulder. Whirling around, she smacked into Jackson's chest and cursed loudly, causing him to chuckle at her. "Shut up, Whittemore," she said, sticking her tongue out.

"You shut up."

"Nice come back, Hannah Montana."

He gave a laugh. "You won that round."

"Of course I did. You played amazingly tonight, by the way."

Jackson grinned at her, leaning down to place a small kiss on her lips. "I wasn't trying to impress you at all."

She rolled her eyes. "Sure you weren't tough guy." She glanced around for Scott, spotting him talking to Allison just near where they were standing. She bit her lip and furrowed her brow. "I'll wait for you outside. We need to talk." A look of dread crossed Jackson's face and he nodded, giving her one last kiss before turning and heading into the locker room to change. When she looked back, Scott was gone, too.

Grace shoved her hands in her pockets and walked outside, sitting on the now-almost-empty bleachers, her breath a cloud of steam as the cold set in. When Jackson returned, there was no Scott, and the rest of the lacrosse team filed out of the change rooms, still slapping backs and celebrating noisily. He sat beside her, reaching down to take one of her hands in his. She smiled over at him. "You guys are going to go down in history as the best lacrosse team ever, y'know."

Jackson snorted and shook his head. "This is the first time in years we've gone to state, I think," he said, shrugging.

"It's all Scott," Grace teased, and he wrinkled his nose.

"Every time he got the ball tonight he passed to Danny."

"I think it's his way of apologising for almost killing him the other day."

Jackson nodded, frowning slightly as he glanced back at the change rooms. It had been a while since the last person had filed out and he wondered what the hell McCall was doing taking so long. "Should we go check on him?" he asked, and Grace nodded. She gripped his hand as they walked toward the locker rooms, Grace straining her ears for anything. She stopped at the entrance, frowning. Her hand slipped out of Jackson's.

"Stay here," she ordered in a harsh whisper. He opened his mouth to protest, but she gave him a look that seemed to scream 'if what's in there doesn't kill you and you come in here, I'll freaking kill you'. He nodded, slinking back. Cautiously, Grace opened the door and made her way through the maze that was the locker rooms, the voices becoming clearer. Two of them she recognized as Scott and Derek, though the other was new to her. The scent, however, was not. The alpha was here.

She swallowed as she came into their view line and all three werewolves looked at her expectantly, having known she was here. "Grace, it's nice to see you," the alpha said. She recognized him as Peter hale. "And so glad to see you're using your new abilities, too."

"Screw you," she spat, and he laughed.

"Such a fire inside of you," he stated, stepping forward. "I knew you'd be good from the moment your father told me about you. He's a loyal man, you know. Your brother needs some work, though. He's a little reluctant."

Grace narrowed her eyes at him, feeling her heart beat quicken. "Control yourself," Peter said, looking at her. "I don't want to have to hurt you."

Scott looked at Grace, frowning slightly at the talk of her estranged family. He had no idea they were werewolves – hell, until this afternoon he hadn't even known she was one. Why was she keeping all of this from him? He sighed, glancing back at Derek. "So you're with him now?" Scott demanded, and Grace raised an eyebrow. "Are you forgetting the part where he killed your family?"

"Things happen," Derek said stiffly. Grace narrowed her eyes at him. Surely he wasn't… she looked away.

"We just want to help you both reach your full potential."

"By killing our friends?" Scott demanded, and Peter sighed.

"Sometimes the people closest to you are the ones holding you back the most."

"If they're holding me back from becoming a psychotic monster like you, I'm okay with that."

Peter stepped forward, placing a hand on the side of Scott's neck. "Let me show you things from my perspective," he said, embedding his claws deep into Scott's flesh. Grace's eyes widened and she watched as he turned and walked away. He heard Peter greet Jackson as he left, muttering to him, "I knew you were there the whole time. Tell your girlfriend to work on her hiding techniques."

He walked in, wide-eyed as he pushed past Derek who was following Peter out obediently. "Grace, are you okay?" he asked, and she nodded. Scott was writhing on the floor and Grace was pale as a ghost. "What the hell is wrong with him?"

"The alpha did something to him. I don't know what to do."

After a moment, his spasm stopped and he lay on the cold ground, panting. He glanced up at Grace and Jackson, then down at his towel-clad lower body. He frowned and wordlessly stood up, seating himself on the bench and burying his head in his hands. "What the hell are we going to do?"

Grace swallowed, glancing at Jackson. "I don't know, Scott."

Stiles rushed in, panting heavily as he flailed around, trying to stop himself. He looked up and Grace and Jackson and nodded in acknowledgment. "Hi, guys," he said before looking down at Scott. "We have a huge problem."

Scott didn't look at him. "Trust me, I know."


	20. Chapter 20

The next afternoon, Grace was lounging around home when she got a call from Scott and Stiles saying that they were going to pick her up in five minutes. They didn't have time to explain though she assumed it had something to do with the alpha or the Argents hunting them down. She pulled on her black skinny jeans and a white knitted jumper featuring a rabbit wearing a Christmas printed blue and purple sweater. It was cute. Tugging a coffee coloured duffel coat on, she located her calf-high black leather boots and struggled to get them on as Stiles' jeep's horn sounded. She winced, still getting used to the improved hearing.

Grabbing her phone and keys, she pocketed both and ran downstairs, yelling a goodbye to her mother before slamming the front door behind her and jogging to the jeep. Throwing herself into the backseat, she leant over in between Scott and Stiles as Stiles began to drive. "Where are we going?" Grace asked.

"Allison's dad thinks that Jackson is a werewolf," Scott replied, sighing. "We have to find Jackson."

They pulled up to where the Porsche had broken down in the middle of a rather abandoned looking courtyard. Grace practically flung herself from the jeep, trying to control herself as she walked casually up to Jackson and placed a kiss on his cheek. "Did the Porsche break down?" she asked, and he nodded, eyebrows furrowed.

"I don't know what's wrong with it," he mumbled. Chris smiled wryly at Grace, Stiles and Scott.

"Hi, Scott," he greeted, sounding bothered. "Your friend here was having car trouble; we were just taking a look."

"Do you want a ride with us, Jackson?" Grace asked, smiling. "There's a store down the road, I'm sure they have a tow-truck."

The teenager nodded and smiled thankfully. Chris Argent had started freaking him out and he was sure he looked guilty of something. What was with all the questions about believing in the supernatural? He shivered slightly, taking Grace's hand and allowing himself to be pulled toward the jeep. From the corner of her eye, Grace saw Argent's hand reach in to the engine of the Porsche and pull something out. "Hey, guys," he called, and they turned around. He walked to the front seat of the car and leaned in, starting the engine. It whirred to life. "Told you I know a thing or two about cars," Mr Argent stated, smiling thinly. Jackson looked relieved.

"Thanks Mr Argent," Grace said, smiling widely at him. She nudged Jackson playfully. "He would have hated to be seen in my crappy car." The man smiled and nodded, turning to head off. Once he was gone, Grace let out the breath she didn't know she'd been holding. "He's such a creep," she mumbled, frowning.

Jackson turned and raised an eyebrow at Scott. "Are you following me now?" he asked, curious more than anything.

"_Yes_, you freaking idiot! You almost gave away everything right there!" Scott yelled, elbowing Stiles' jeep.

"Dude, my jeep…"

Grace narrowed her eyes at Scott. "Watch your tone, asshole."

"He was asking things about you," Jackson said turning to her, and Grace raised an eyebrow. "He asked if I believe in werewolves and if I thought there were any around here… I said no."

"They think you're Scott," she muttered, running a hand through her hair. "I think he knew you were lying, though. I could hear your heart beating a mile away."

"Literally," Scott added bitterly. She ignored him, finding no reason to be angry. Soon, the alpha would be dead and things would go back to normal. Derek would die too if he needed to, and so would her father. She wouldn't let anything get in the way of her and her friends being safe again. Scott was fuming. How was it that he couldn't control himself in a time like this, but Grace wasn't agitated at all? Maybe it was the firm believe nestled in her mind that everything would be okay. That they could keep a close eye on Jackson, protect him from Chris, make sure they kill the alpha and anybody siding with him, and go back to normal.

"Everything's going to be fine," Grace insisted, nodding. She turned to Stiles and Scott, nodding. "You guys can go. I'm going to stay with Jackson for a while."

"Should you guys be alone after- after what happened the other day?" Stiles asked, concerned. She looked back at Jackson and he nodded.

"We'll call if we need anything," she said, smiling softly. "See you at school tomorrow, okay?"

The boys nodded and got back into the jeep, waving as they drove off. Grace sighed and turned to Jackson, the stress evident on her features. "Want to go back to mine?" she asked, and Jackson nodded. She hesitated before getting into the Porsche, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts. What if she _did_ have to kill her father and Roman? She couldn't stand the idea of murdering people though she _would_ do it if the situation called for it. She wouldn't hesitate, and that scared her somewhat.

* * *

Jackson Whittemore stood in front of the Hale house, his eyes narrowed as he stared at the looming two-storey building. Derek stood behind him, an encouraging edge to his voice as he told the teenager to enter. Swallowing, Jackson ascended the front stops of the house. He was doing this for Grace; he _had_ to do this for Grace. What other choice did he have? He couldn't protect her from what was out there unless he did this. Taking a breath, he paused, turning around to face Derek. "What's in there?" he asked, and Derek smiled.

"Everything you want. Everything you _need_ to protect your girlfriend."

How could he resist that offer?

He reached forward, hand closing around the rusted doorknob. His breath hitched in his throat, but he pushed the door open. Derek's hand found his shoulder and the werewolf grinned at him, enthusiastic. When they were inside, however, the Hale house remained empty. Jackson walked slowly to the staircase, frowning slightly as he turned around. "There's no one else here. Is anyone else coming?" he asked, his voice wavering slightly. Derek's expression was stony.

"No," he replied, claws sprouting from his hands. A wave of panic rose in Jackson.

"Please, don't-"

"Why?"

"I don't deserve this, please-"

"Look around, Jackson! There's no one here to save you. No one cares that you drive an expensive car, or that you have _perfect_ hair. Or that you're captain of the lacrosse team! _No one cares!"_

He wanted to argue against Derek, tell him that Grace cared and his parents cared and people _did_ care about him, but he couldn't find the energy to do so. He held his breath.

"Excuse me."

Derek glanced up, pausing in his advance toward Jackson. Scott stood at the top of the stairs, glaring down at the bigger wolf with a sneer. "That's co-captain," he said before he made a leap, landing just in front of Jackson. He turned and looked at his best friend's boyfriend, his features having turned wolfish, before he turned back to Derek.

"Move," Derek ordered, his voice deeper than usual.

"No."

"Then I'll kill you, too."

Scott had no doubts that he would not go through with that threat, but before the werewolf had a chance to, bullets starting flying through the air. They sliced through the doors, one hitting Scott in the ribcage. He fell, crawling over to the wall as Jackson darted over to him, cursing loudly at the dark blood spewing from his wounds. "Get him out of here," Derek ordered, and Jackson did as he was told, lifting Scott as best he could and assisting him in getting outside. They didn't make it many paces from the house before he collapsed on the ground, clutching at his side. Jackson had no idea what to do.

"Allison," Scott choked out, and Jackson winced.

"What do I do, McCall?" he demanded, though he got nothing. He heard a crunch of leaves and glanced around through the darkness, eyes locking on a figure walking toward them. He stood quickly, unsure what he was preparing himself for though it wasn't running away. He distinctly recognized the man from the animal clinic that Scott worked for and though he shouldn't have trusted strangers, Jackson found himself asking the man for help.

"That's why I'm here," Deaton murmured, reaching down to collect Scott in his arms. Jackson said nothing though he followed the strange man through the dead of the night. He considered calling Grace, but he didn't want to worry her – or worse, stress her out. She was so far from being able to control herself that he couldn't risk having her see Scott in the way he was, especially when he'd just saved Jackson's life.

* * *

Scott woke with a start, sitting up quickly, a pain shooting through his left side where he'd been shot. Deaton clucked disapprovingly, dropping a bullet in a silver tray. "I wouldn't do too much moving just yet," he advised, Scott noticeably calming down at the sight of his boss. He sighed and glanced over at Jackson with a nod.

"Thanks for saving my ass," he muttered, and Jackson snorted.

"I think you saved mine more or less."

"So we're even."

"Definitely – I don't owe you anything, okay?" he asked, half-joking. Scott wasn't really _that_ bad once Jackson had known him. He was certainly valiant, he'd give Scott that.

"Am I going to die?" Scott asked Deaton, and the man chuckled.

"Not at all, you're going to be fine," he replied. "I've given you something that should speed up the healing process."

"But you're a vet…" Scott mumbled, trailing off.

"That's very true," the man noted. "And ninety percent of the time, I'm mostly treating cats and dogs."

"Mostly?" Scott asked, not understanding.

Deaton just looked at him and smiled. "Mostly."

Jackson blinked and frowned, finding that he most certainly didn't want to know what the doctor was treating the other ten percent of the time though he had a sneaking suspicion that Scott McCall wasn't his first supernatural victim. "I'm heading off," he mumbled, running his hand through his hair. "I'll check in with Scott tomorrow," he told the vet, Scott having passed out again. Nodding once, the vet continued to work and Jackson left the clinic, walking back to the gym where he'd abandoned his car to go with Derek to the Hale house, Derek's voice in his head. _Everything you need to protect your girlfriend._

* * *

When Jackson arrived home that night, he called Grace, flopping down onto his bed and giving a sigh. "Jackson, hi," she greeted warmly.

"What colour dress are you wearing to the formal?" he asked, and she frowned to herself.

"The formal?" she echoed. "I haven't got a date to the formal, no one's asked me."

"Aren't you coming with me?"

"If that's your way of asking," Grace threatened, her tone playful, "then you'd better rethink your life choices, Whittemore."

Jackson chuckled and rolled his eyes at her. "Fine, I'll ask officially tomorrow. Wouldn't want to be all weird and just assume we were going together because we're a couple or anything."

Grace snorted. "Shut it, asshole."

"You wound me."

"You haven't see wound yet, mister."

"Is that a threat?"

"Yes."

He laughed, rolling his eyes at her. "I could win in a fight against you," he said, and she gave a loud guffaw.

"Ha! You freaking wish, Jackson," she stated, and Jackson feigned a wounded sound.

"That really hurts my feelings."

"You have feelings?" Grace asked, feigning surprise in her voice. "I had no idea."

"I lied. I don't have feelings. Everything I've felt for you was a lie."

"Don't make me come over there," she warned.

"Can you?"

"Mom has me on driving ban because I scratched my car… you could come here, if you like. We can watch movies and do weird couple-y stuff."

"Sounds fun," Jackson noted. "I'll be there in ten minutes."

When he arrived, she was curled up on her living room couch in a nest of blankets with a bottle of non-alcoholic wine and a packet of crisps on the floor beside her. He considered telling her what Derek had done, but he couldn't bring himself to do so. She looked so... childishly innocent, her eyes wide as she followed her movie, her face perfect... could he add more stress to her? No, he wouldn't. Jackson wordlessly slipped off his shoes and hopped in beside her, slipping an arm around her shoulders and kissing the side of her head. She didn't take her eyes off the movie she was watching – _The Breakfast Club_ – as she snuggled into him. He eyed the bottle of wine.

"Non-alcoholic wine, Grace, really?" he teased, and she snorted and elbowed his ribs.

"It's addicting," she mumbled, blushing slightly. He smirked and she stuck her tongue out at him. "You suck."

"You do."

"Only for you," she teased.

_That _shut him up. She grinned and went back to her movie, liking the comfort of having him beside her. Taking a swig from her wine bottle, she offered him some and he took it, taking a generous sip. "It is addicting," he muttered, taking another smaller sip.

"Told you," Grace replied with a smug expression.

"Oh, shut up," he told her, and she laughed.

"You're a mean boyfriend."

"Well you're a mean girlfriend."

"Shush."

"You shush."

She kicked him and he jerked away. "What the hell?"

Grace grinned at him innocently. "What? What did I do?" she asked, and he rolled his eyes. "Are you sleeping over tonight?" she mumbled, nestling into his chest. _How_ could he resist that? He shrugged and nodded, kissing the top of her head before settling down behind her with his back against the back of the couch, head on the squishy armrest. "Good, because I'm tired," she murmured. He chuckled, looping an arm around her waist as he settled into their position. She was already out by the time he fell asleep, _The Breakfast Club_ echoing in his mind as he drifted off.


	21. Chapter 21

The next morning, Grace found herself nose-to-nose with Jackson on her living room couch, his arm draped loosely around her and his soft breath flicking her hair which, in return, tickled her nose. She wrinkled her features, blinking away the remnants of sleep as the harsh light hit her eyes. She could hear her mother in the kitchen and silently, the brunette stood, leaving a sleeping Jackson behind as she ambled into the kitchen. "Morning, mom," she said through a yawn, covering her mouth. Her mother glanced at her and raised an eyebrow.

"Is he your boyfriend?" she deadpanned, and Grace blinked.

"As of like, a few days ago…" she mumbled, grabbing a mug as she flicked on the kettle. She spooned one small teaspoon of coffee and two of sugar, moseying over to the fridge and grabbing the milk carton. "Why?"

"He seems nice. You know, he was there as much as he could be while you were in the hospital."

Her words warmed Grace and the brunette grinned, biting her lip and avoiding her mother's gaze as she poured the boiling water into her coffee mug before adding some milk, stirring it gently with the teaspoon. "I really like him, mom," she said quietly. "But what if… what if I do something to stuff it up?"

Clara chuckled, shaking her head as she flicked through the paper. "Gracie, any boy would be lucky to have you. And Jackson seems to _really_ like you, too. So just be yourself, don't commit a murder, and you'll be fine."

Grace snorted, turning to face her mother with a raised brow. "Don't commit a murder? Great advice, mom, really."

Her mother glared at her mockingly from under her lashes. "Shut it, Grace. There's a body-bag in my closet with your name on it."

Just then, Grace heard Jackson stir in the living room. She smiled softly, grabbed her mug of coffee and mooched out of the kitchen, a small smile appearing on his face as he spotted her. She sat beside him, placing a gentle kiss on the side of his mouth before handing him the coffee mug, offering him some of the warming beverage. He took it graciously, taking a small sip before setting it down on the counter and wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her down into a lying position beside him. "Good morning," she chuckled, and he grinned.

"I could get used to waking up like this every morning," Jackson mumbled, licking his lips. Grace smirked.

"You're going to have to get up now," she told him, a hint of regret in her tone though she appeared to be teasing him. "I'm going out with Lydia and Allison for formal dresses in an hour. Just because I'm going stag doesn't mean I can't look perfect."

"You'd look perfect in a burlap sack," he said, not catching her words. A moment later, he glanced at her. "Stag?" he asked, frowning. She shrugged.

"No one's asked me," she taunted.

Jackson rolled his eyes and kissed her lips gently. "Please come to the winter formal with me," he asked, and she pretended to consider the idea before laughing as he poked her sides, disliking her playful teasing.

"Of course I will, you idiot," she mumbled, blushing slightly. He rolled his eyes.

"I'm not an idiot, you're horrible."

Grace widened her eyes, clutching her chest and widening her eyes at him. "Jackson, that really hurt my feelings!"

He sniggered at her and she rolled her eyes, grabbing the coffee cup from the table and taking a long sip. Nudging him, Grace smiled softly as he whined gently about having to get up – though he didn't voice this, he would have much preferred staying with Grace today. He sighed, getting up and locating his shoes, slipping them on before grabbing his bag. As she walked him to the door, he gave her the killer puppy-dog eyes and she chuckled, biting her lip. "That won't work on me," she mumbled, and he sighed again.

"I don't want to go."

"I'll see you tomorrow night. Pick me up from here at six thirty sharp, or you'll be demoted as 'date' to 'boy who brings me drinks'."

He rolled his eyes, leaning in to kiss her lips softly, reluctantly pulling away before the temptation to stay anyway overcame him. "I'll see you tomorrow night," he mumbled against her lips, eyes closed.

"Tomorrow night," Grace murmured in approval, pulling away. She smiled at him before closing the door, unsure how she'd gotten so lucky in getting Jackson Whittemore. Well, it was about _time_ some good karma was thrown her way, right? She deserved to be happy; she wasn't a bad person at all, really. This whole thing with the alpha, her father and her brother… she didn't deserve it.

But she'd take it like the strong woman she was, because she had Jackson by her side to let her know she'd be okay.

* * *

"I don't know about this dress, guys," Grace mumbled, furrowing her eyebrows as she looked into the mirror. The dress she had on was sleek above her waist, tight and succeeding in shaping her body. It was strapless and coloured a vibrant red, making her naturally tan skin look perfect. Although she loved the dress on her, it seemed… revealing? She ran her finger over her bare collarbones, fingers hovering over her bust which looked twice the size as it usually did. She glanced down at her legs, long and slender with white scars scattered over her skin. The skirt of the dress was made of tulle netting in the same red and stopped in the middle of her thighs. She bit the inside of her cheek, frowning.

"Come out!" Lydia urged, and Grace nodded at herself in the mirror.

"Okay," she called back, turning to open the door of the change room stall. Lydia looked up from her phone and grinned, Allison mimicking her wide smile as their eyes settled on their friend. They were nodding to themselves while Grace stood somewhat awkwardly and played with her hands, chewing the inside of her cheek harshly out of habit.

"It's amazing," Allison mumbled, approving of the dress.

"I love it," Lydia added before looking back to her phone.

"It suits your skin tone incredibly well," came another familiar voice. Grace glanced toward the left of Allison, her eyes widening at the sight. Just as Allison opened her mouth to ask who he was, the overhead speakers announced a car with its headlights left on. Cursing, Allison left Lydia alone with Grace and Peter Hale. The girl blinked, smiled thinly and wandered away to look at more dresses. Peter smiled warmly. "You do have incredible skin, Grace," he murmured, reaching out to touch the side of her cheek. She slapped his hand away.

"Don't touch me," she warned, and he laughed, shaking his head.

"Why? We're like family, aren't we, Grace?" the alpha asked quietly, amusement in his tone as his eyes travelled down her frame. He seemed to be slowly taking in every inch of her, admiring her poise and charm. Her hands shook as she felt suddenly very embarrassed that he was looking at her so closely. Since she'd been turned, she'd admit her skin had cleared up wonderfully and she had possessed more bearing than previously, but she was unsure how to go about this. She pressed her lips together and cleared her throat.

"We're not family." She had meant for her tone to come out sharp, but her response was weak and her voice cracked under the strain. "We never will be. Alexander is not my family and neither is Roman."

Peter gave a soft _tsk tsk_ under his breath. "Grace, you know what will happen if the rules are not followed. I'd hate to have to do that to Roman. He's fond of you, you know. Alexander, not so much… but I expect he'll welcome you into the pack with open arms and a smile. He likes the idea of our family being strong, undefeated."

"What, are you two together now or something?" Grace sneered, and Peter laughed.

"Oh, no. He's bringing his fiancé and step-daughter into town soon enough and I have my eyes on a certain Melissa McCall. She's very beautiful, Scott's mother. Won't it be nice, having Scott and his mother and myself, then your own little family?"

Grace's stomach plummeted at _step-daughter._ It was almost as though she was being slowly replaced by Alexander's new family. She wrinkled her nose and scoffed at Peter, shaking her head. "Scott won't let anything happen to Melissa, and Alexander can have his new family. I don't want any part of it."

Peter held up a hand as though expecting it, his claws sprouting. "I can be quite persuasive, Grace."

"Try me," she snapped, and his eyes locked on hers quickly, flashing red.

"You will have one chance and one chance only, Grace Hart. You'll know your duties in time, I'll keep in touch." He smiled wryly. "See you soon, darling," he murmured, hand lifting to touch her face though he pulled it away at the last second as if he had changed his mind. With a long, meaningful look, he turned away from her and sauntered through the store, head held high. Grace let out a shaky breath.

* * *

Grace ended up purchasing the dress she tried on and using some lame excuse to leave her two friends and go home. As she arrived, she swallowed thickly and said a quick hello to her mother before racing upstairs, her mind in a rush. Her mind was racing, her heart thumping angrily in her chest. Peter made her furious, thinking he had control over what she did and who she spent her time with – over whom her family was. No one could take away the fact that Grace's family consisted of her mother, her dog, Jackson, Stiles, Scott, Allison and Lydia.

She threw her bag down on the floor with an aggravated yell, raking her hands through her hair. How could she get out of this? She drew in a breath. What the hell were Peter's plans for her? She could feel herself losing control, but a noise from outside her window caught her attention. On the balcony (to which she didn't even have a damn key) stood her brother, rapping impatiently on the door. She raised an eyebrow, feeling calm as she walked over to the window and slid it up. He seemed to get the gist of what she wanted him to do and, with ease, he jumped from the balcony, latched on to the top of the window and swung in to the room.

"What are you doing here?" Grace asked, venom in her voice. She narrowed her eyes at him, crossing her arms over her chest. Roman gave a sigh and ran his hand through his shaggy sandy-blonde hair. At first glance, Grace and Roman didn't look all that similar. The features they shared were a little less noticeable – like the freckled cheeks and nose, the slight speck of green in their wide, brown eyes. Once, Grace had loved him. But he was no more her brother than he was a trustworthy man and she found that, try as she might, she couldn't bring herself to feel sorry for him just yet.

"I came to talk to you," Roman answered, his tone quiet at her snap. He looked so old though he had to only be around a year older than Grace. His eyes were sunken and the naturally tanned skin that ran in the Hart family looked cracked and broken around his face. From a distance, no one could tell that Roman was having serious daddy issues or that his sister would be wanted for murder just tomorrow. He sighed. "I don't want this- this thing that dad and Peter are doing, Grace," Roman started. Grace looked at him expectantly.

"Then why did you agree to it in the first place?"

"I was young and naive and promised a great future where I didn't have to be scared. Wouldn't you take that, too?"

The brunette bit her lip and looked away, furrowing her eyebrows.

"Look, Grace," Roman continued, stealing back her attention. "I just came to tell you that if… if you're going to kill Peter and dad… then I want in. I can't do this anymore, I never wanted to be a murderer or follow some stupid pack."

Grace's eyes widened at his words and she looked at him as though trying to decipher whether or not he was serious. He looked serious… she stared at him a moment, arms dropping to her sides before she waved him away, trying to appear nonchalant. "If dad has anything to do with Peter's plan, you'll be there when we face Peter. And you'll be there to see him killed."

* * *

That afternoon, Grace sat on her porch with a book in her hand, enjoying the serenity of the cool air around her. She sighed through her nose, turning a page and glancing at the words though she couldn't find the energy to actually read them. She couldn't understand – this was the picture perfect moment for her to get some alone time, to kick back and relax. Why couldn't she just enjoy it? She groaned, closing her book and tossing it to the chair beside the love-seat, her head falling back as she gave a yawn. A slamming car door caught her attention and her head shot up, eyes falling on Kate Argent. The blonde woman sauntered towards Grace's house, a smirk on her face as she approached.

"Grace, right?" Kate asked, though Grace suspected she already knew the answer.

The brunette gave a nod and stood, raising an eyebrow. "Can I help you?" she asked, and Kate chuckled humourlessly at the venom in the younger girl's voice.

"I want to know about your little friend Scott," Kate said, pressing her lips together. She folded her arms across her chest and cocked her hip out, expecting her response. Grace blinked, finding the need to protect Scott against the hunter's family become overwhelming.

"What about him?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly. Kate raised an eyebrow.

"You know, don't you?" she asked, glee in her voice. "He's the beta, isn't he?"

Grace pressed her lips together and shook her head with a small smirk. She needed to be convincing, she needed to play the part. She raised a hand like Peter had done in the Macy's store, pretending to inspect her nails which grew into claws, oddly enough at Grace's command. Such a short time and she was getting better at controlling herself already. "Scott's not the beta, Kate," she murmured, eyes still on her nails. She looked up at Kate, eyes sparkling. "I am."

Kate blinked, surprised at the girl's words. She wasn't sure what to think – she had been _so sure_ that Scott was the beta that it was kind of a shock to her, finding out that he wasn't. Grace's lips turned into a malicious smile, her chin lifting slightly as she allowed her eyes to travel down Kate's body, hoping she was making the older woman feel as insignificant and insecure as Peter had made her feel in Macy's. She twisted a strand of her hair around her clawed finger, licking her lips as she exposed two very pointed fangs. "I think its best you leave, ma'am," she said cheerfully, feeling her blood rush with excitement. Kate's heart was beating slightly faster and the woman looked around, making sure there were many people around in the broad daylight.

"We'll kill you all," Kate scoffed, a look of hatred on her features. She was pretty, really, Grace thought. Too bad she had to die.

"Not before we kill you," Grace chirped, smiling widely before she gave a small wave with her now normal hands, turning and disappearing back into her house. Had she done the right thing by protecting Scott against Kate and the other Argent's? Probably not, she guessed. But she needed a way to get Peter and her father killed, and this was as good as it was going to get. She, Roman, Derek and Scott probably could have taken down Peter and Alexander by themselves, but she didn't want to take chances. What if one of her friends died? The Argents – save for Allison and occasionally Chris – we're nothing to her, it didn't matter if any of them died, not to Grace.

For the first time in three years, Grace felt the seed of hatred deep inside her and wondered if the power she now held would wield her toward a life more evil than she'd ever known.

* * *

**Woah! Things are getting intense as the season ends... Sorry for the lack of updates, but I'm back at school. I'll try get one in every three or four days, though. I don't like leaving you guys hanging for _too_ long... :') PLEASE REVIEW!**


	22. Chapter 22

**So this was exciting to write. I hope it doesn't seem too rushed or too OOC... SMUT WARNING, I REPEAT, SMUT WARNING.**

* * *

She was bloody, limping and sore, but she had won this round.

Grace stood and walked away from her father's body with her head high, no expression of emotion on her features. She wiped blood off her cheek with the back of her hand, red still staining her mouth as she glanced and saw Scott and Derek climbing out from the sewerage hole, eyes wide as they took in the scene around them. Roman started down at Alexander's body with no remorse as had Grace done. Scott walked over to Grace, panic on his face. "What the hell happened?" he demanded, and she shrugged her shoulders, refusing to look at him.

"We did what needed to be done. Peter's little sidekick is gone."

Derek looked around, unsure what to make of the situation. He grabbed Scott's arm. "We have to go," he urged, and Scott nodded, calling for Grace and her brother to follow. They didn't make it very far into the forest before arrows started flying at them, and Grace could see Kate and Allison huddled together, a bow in Allison's hands. How could she _do_ that to them? Grace's mouth fell open as she ducked for cover, terror setting in. She wanted to run and hide, but she couldn't. She needed to face this with her pack.

Derek pulled an arrow from his thigh with a loud cry, pain on his face. Grace looked alarmed as she scrambled over to him, prying the second arrow from his bicep quickly. The beta stood, grabbed Grace and Scott, and limped back toward the Hale house with Roman tagging along behind. Allison approached Scott and their conversations became heated. Kate approached, sauntering over with a smirk. "Now we kill them," she said, shooting Derek as he tried to stand. Grace gasped, standing quickly as she pointed the gun at Scott despite Allison's protests. The woman pushed her niece to the ground, staring at Scott. "I do love those brown eyes," she sighed, readying herself to pull the trigger.

"Kate!"

The blonde turned, frowning at the sight of her brother storming toward her. Chris took a moment to survey his surroundings, swallowing thickly at the mauled body of Alexander, Derek's lifeless frame, Roman standing in the shadows panting and Grace, covered in blood and still in her formal dress and Allison on the ground, shaking. He felt slightly... distressed at the situation. "I know what you did," Allison's father said matter-of-factly, staring at Kate. She held the gun at Scott's head, never faltering in her steely stare at her brother. "Put the gun down."

Kate jerked her hand, shaking her head. "I did what I was told to do."

"No one told you to murder innocent people," Chris argued, and Grace swallowed, glancing back and forth between the two. "There were children in that house," he continued. "One's who were human. Look what you're doing now; you're holding a gun at a sixteen year old boy! No proof he spilled human blood. We go by the code."

The blonde woman gave a glare, rolling her eyes before looking at Scott. Chris muttered something in Latin to her and Allison's eyes widened.

"We hunt those who hunt us," she mumbled, as though finally realising what the saying meant. Kate ignored them both, her finger starting to pull the trigger when Chris raised his own gun, pointing it at her. Her head snapped up.

"Put the gun down," he ordered. When she didn't, he shot the tree behind her, causing almost everyone to jump, eyes wide. Kate glanced from the tree to her brother, a look of disbelief on her features. "Before I put you down," he added, voice stern. Finally, Kate lowered her weapon just in time for the door to the ruined Hale house to creak open, catching everyone's attention. Allison was ordered to get back by her father and the two hunters along with the three betas stepped back, readying themselves for whatever was behind that door.

"What is it?" Allison asked, voice panicked as she stared at the door.

Scott straightened himself, eyes glowing yellow like Roman and Grace's as all three of them gritted their teeth, knowing immediately what was coming. "It's the alpha," Scott said, swallowing.

Not a second after his words were spoken, the creature darted out of the house at lightning speed, circling the group tauntingly. Kate was distracted as Grace looked at her, a sudden urge to kill rising inside of her. This woman had tried to kill her best friend... before she had time to act on her instinct, the alpha tore past and knocked both Chris and Allison down, their weapons falling from their hands. Scott, Grace and Roman were next, the wind knocked from their lungs as their bodies met the hard forest floor. Grace clutched her stomach, breathing in sharply as her glowing eyes settled on Kate, who screamed for the alpha to come to her. Her gun was held high as she turned in circles, trying to locate the beast.

The blonde turned, coming face-to-face with Peter Hale, who gripped her wrist and drove it away from him as she fired shots in a desperate attempt to hit him. His face was close to hers as he hit her arm, a sickening crunch sounding as he must have broke her arm. Grace winced, scrambling back slightly. Grabbing the woman by the throat, Peter threw Kate into the air and she landed on the porch with a painfully loud thud. She groaned in pain as he picked her up and dragged her into the house, Allison following behind as she screamed in protest. When she arrived in the living room, Peter was stood in the corner with his slender fingers wrapped round Kate's throat. "She is beautiful, Kate," he said to Allison with a nod. "She looks like you. Probably a lot less damaged... so I'm going to give you a chance to save her. Say you're sorry," the alpha choked out, looking as though he would snap at any moment. "Apologise for decimating my family, for leaving me burnt and broken for _six years._ Say it, and I'll let her live."

Outside, Grace stood and crept toward the house, ears alert for any signs of Allison being in trouble. She didn't want to rush in there – lord knew what Peter would do if he was interrupted in something important to him. Breathing shallowly, the girl tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, cautiously inching toward the living room.

"I'm sorry," Kate choked out, breathing harshly. Peter smirked slightly before his claws curled around her jugular. With one tearing motion, the woman's blood splattered on the window pane as Peter ripped her throat from her, allowing her to fall to the ground.

"No!" Allison screamed, darting toward her aunt. Blood dripped down Kate's chest, bright red against her pale skin. Grace gagged at the smell, finding herself covering her mouth as she looked up at Peter. She had wanted Kate to die, but the scene before her was utterly heart breaking as Allison held her family, crying as Peter started down at them with satisfaction on his stony features.

"I don't know about you Allison, but I think that apology didn't sound very sincere," Peter murmured, the teenager looking up at him with wide, tear-filled eyes. He started walking toward the girl, but Grace's face shifted as she growled at him, licking her canines threateningly. Peter rolled his eyes as Scott appeared beside Grace, looking slightly concerned as Roman joined the two of them, blonde hair matted with blood and dirt. Finally, with a loud growl, Derek joined the three teens and Allison looked around with panic on her features. Her eyes settled on Grace – she hadn't even known Grace was like Scott... swallowing, she kept an eye on the five werewolves as she backed up against the wall, breathing heavily.

"Run," Scott ordered, and she left the room in a hurry, leaving four panting werewolves against one alpha. Scott and Derek shared a look before running at the alpha, who effortlessly tossed them aside but was caught off-guard by Roman and Grace. Grace grabbed him around the waist, driving him against the rotting wooden table in the room. Peter let out a grunt as he collided with the furniture, hissing as he swiped at Grace's with the intent to harm. She howled as his nails left deep scars where her father had done just minutes ago and, with a grunt, was sent across the room and into the wall, followed by Roman who landed on top of her. Her vision blurred, she couldn't focus her mind on moving... she felt weak.

As she lay there on the floor and tried to get her mind in order, she could only think of one thing: Jackson. Grace used shaky arms, pushing herself up, determined to assist in killing this alpha. Scott, Derek and Roman weren't doing so well and they needed her, but her body just didn't match her spirit. Why wasn't her wound from Peter healing? She cursed as she felt the hot red blood spilling from her open injury and flow down her back, soaking into the red dress that was now ruined beyond repair. Soon, Peter was shifting into the angry form of the alpha werewolf, his shoulders broadening and clothes ripping as he hunched over, bones cracking as he changed.

* * *

Meanwhile, Jackson and Stiles were making their way through the forest on tracks toward the Hale house, bickering with each other as Stiles but the pedal to the floor, eyes focused on the road. He needed to get to Scott and Grace and Jackson was so annoyingly focused on saving Grace that the boy wouldn't shut up about it. Stiles ignored him. "Can't this thing go any faster?" Stiles demanded, and Jackson snorted.

"It isn't exactly a terrain-type vehicle," he replied, anxious and on-edge. Stiles rolled his eyes, wishing they'd just get there already.

* * *

Scott was thrown through the window with a sickening crash, followed by Derek and Roman. Allison stared on with eyes wide as saucers, wanting to help but unsure how to do so. Abandoning Grace, the alpha left her, thinking her too injured to continue to fight. She struggled, but managed to stand with a determined look on her face, choking back tears and pained groans as she hobbled over to a rusted gasoline can, thankful to find it full. Now, all she needed was a lighter... _Allison._ Her and those explosive arrows would be enough. Hopefully, Allison had some left... otherwise; it could have meant certain death for Grace. She picked up the can, hobbling to the front porch where the alpha had fallen to the floor. She tipped the can upside down and winched at the smell of the gasoline, Peter too shell-shocked to realise what was happening. He squirmed and screamed, throwing his head back. Grace glanced over at Allison. "Allison, the arrows!" she yelled, causing the dark-haired girl to leap for her bow and an arrow.

With intense precision, Allison lined up the shot and sent the arrow flying through the air, silently celebrating when it hit the target. The alpha burst into flames, tipping his head back and howling bloody murder as he danced around, not knowing what to do. The pain kept him moving and, eventually, he collapsed to the ground. Derek eyed the fallen figure before standing and walking toward it while Grace blinked into the headlights of a car that had just arrived.

Jackson's Porsche...

She ran toward Stiles and Jackson, who stepped out of the car with panic on their features. Scott and Allison were having a moment, so she wanted one of her own. Despite the searing pain in her back, Jackson was all Grace saw as she slowly made her way toward the teen, arms open as she collapsed against him. He felt the sticky, warm blood on his fingers and looked at her, eyes filled with worry. "It's fine," she said softly, lying through her teeth. "It will heal, I'm okay."

Chris had finally woke, sighing at the sight of Scott and his daughter close. But as Scott turned, Derek advanced on Peter. He, Roman and Grace glanced at Derek as he knelt down beside his uncle, only one thing in his eyes: murder. Grace parted from Jackson and ran toward Scott, panting as she watched wide eyed. "Wait!" Scott screamed. "You said the cure comes from the one who bit you! Derek, what am I supposed to do? I'm dead if you kill him! Her father, her family..." Grace glanced at him, frowning. What was she supposed to do – stay a wolf forever? She looked down at Peter's burnt body, bile rising in her throat.

"You've already decided," Peter choked out. "I can smell it on you." His eyes reddened at his last words and Derek sneered, raising a hand despite Scott's scream of protest. Allison cowered into her father's chest and Grace didn't bat an eye as the alpha was killed, throat slashed as blood spurted from the wound. Stiles blinked, breathing heavily as he glanced at Jackson, whose eyes were wide. Grace stepped backwards, almost tripping as she tried to get away from Derek who turned with a murderous look on his face.

"I'm the alpha now," he said, eyes reddening as he looked on at the three beta werewolves. Roman looked at Grace, scared and panicked. Stiles covered his mouth with his hand, shocked. Chris cradled Allison and Scott just stared in disbelief.

* * *

After stopping by Dr Deaton's clinic and getting patched up – her wounds were from the alpha, so they wouldn't heal supernaturally – Grace found herself sitting on Jackson's bed in a pair of his sweats and a shirt of his. She'd showered and her hair was damp, slowly drying as she fiddled with her hands. Tonight was meant to be amazing, but instead, it had turned to shit. She swallowed thickly, glancing up as Jackson re-entered his room with a bottle of water, handing it to Grace. She opened her mouth to thank him but found nothing came out and she wanted to curse herself for being so stupidly quiet. Instead, she uncapped the bottle and took a long drink, licking her lips before placing it on the bedside table. "I'm so sorry about tonight," she mumbled to Jackson, ducking her head. He looked at her curiously, seating himself beside her on the bed.

"If I was normal – or if you were dating someone n-normal, you could have had the amazing night I promised you," she continued, voice shaking as her throat became thick, eyes turning teary. "I messed everything up, Jackson."

"I think I'm in love with you."

Grace blinked, frowning as she turned to Jackson, whose hands were shaking as he stared at her with meaningful eyes. "I don't think. I know that I am so in love with you and I don't care if you're half- half wolf or freaking Satan. I love you."

She didn't know what to say. His words had caught her so off-guard that she was shell-shocked, breathing in sharply as she stared into his eyes. She was terrified, of course, because Jackson Whittemore had once told her he'd loved her before, and she had lost everything that mattered to her except for her mother. "Grace, say something," Jackson urged, a frown on his face.

"I love you too," she whispered, bottom lip shaking as her breathing shallowed. She searched his face, listened to his heartbeat for anything that could mean he was lying, but found nothing. "Oh, god, I love you," she whimpered, finding something desperate inside of her clawing at her insides. She needed to be more than close to him... she needed to be _with_ him. She leaned toward him, connecting their lips with a force she never knew she had inside of her. Grace had been yearning for this for so long and she hadn't even known. One hand gripped his shoulder as the other raked through his hair, her body pressed flush against his as his hands wound around her back, mindful of her wounds inflicted by Peter.

Their breathing was harsh, pants coming after short gasps as they pulled and tugged at each other's clothing, soon finding themselves in their underwear. Grace flushed as he pulled away, arms immediately crossing over her bare chest as she felt self-consciousness flood her. She looked up at him sheepishly, wanting to reach out and touch him. He was so beautiful with his toned chest, wide eyes and gently freckled features. He reached out, slender fingers guiding her hands away from her body as he leaned forward, taking her into his arms. Wordlessly, he laid her on the bed, hovering over her as he tugged the covers over their frames.

He wasn't a virgin and Grace knew that – his relationship with Lydia had been physical if nothing else, but Grace... she'd never been with anyone. Swallowing, she wasn't sure what to say or do, but Jackson seemed to be happy to lead her, taking it slow with tender kisses over her bare skin.

* * *

**SMUT WARNING**

* * *

He nibbled at her hip bone, smirking as he reached her polka-dot underwear. "Really, Grace?" he murmured, amusement on his face as his fingers hooked under the elastic. She flushed red, biting her lip.

"I don't have any sexy ones," she argued, and he chuckled.

"So we're really going to do this?" he asked, tone gentle. She hesitated a moment before nodding, giving her permission. He waited a moment for protest before tugging her underwear over her thighs and she lifted herself, allowing him to tug them off and let them fall to the floor beside the bed. He reached over her, finding a condom on the bedside table. He furrowed his eyebrows, staring at the wrapped contraception then glancing at Grace. "I thought I was going to lose you tonight," he whispered, and she smiled softly.

"I promised forever," she replied quietly, a hand drifting to the side of his face. "That means I can't die, right?"

The familiar words brought a smile to his lips and he nodded, bending down to place a soft, lingering kiss to her lips before he reached down to pull his boxers off, eyes locking on hers as he got rid of the garment before unwrapping the condom, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he tried to get it on. Grace giggled and he paused, looking at her questioningly. "What?"

"You look adorable," she mumbled, adoration in her eyes. He snorted, rolling his eyes as he bit his tongue beneath his teeth in concentration, bringing another laugh from her lips. "Do you want some help?"

He stayed quiet for a moment, fumbling under the covers before he shook his head. "I've got it," he said, glancing up at her. "Are you ready?"

Grace nodded, feeling unsure but _knowing_ that this was what she wanted. She breathed in as he positioned himself over her, one arm balancing him and the other disappearing beneath the covers. A pained expression crossed her face when he finally entered her and he paused, the pleasure flooding through him coming to a halt. "Are you okay?" he whispered, and she nodded with her eyes closed.

"Keep going," she urged, and slowly, he thrust deeper inside her. She wound a hand through his hair, tugging gently as strangled moans fell from her lips. Pulling him closer, she couldn't ignore the high she was on as the pain finally subsided and she felt nothing but sheer pleasure. Connecting their lips, Grace kissed him softly, amazed at the closeness and how brilliant it felt. She moved his hips with hers, their rhythm becoming faster as they settled into each other, both unable to deny how perfect the moment was.

Jackson's lips hovered near hears, their breaths mixing, eyes closed as they felt each other. Grace inhaled shakily, feeling herself on the edge of what could only be described as fulfilment, both her and Jackson's breathing becoming even shallower as the time passed. She clawed at his back, careful not to allow her actual claws to seep through. Although she had doubted herself, Grace could feel nothing but control at the moment when it came to her... curse. She had expected the intense pleasure to drive her to shift, but all she could feel was pure love and pleasure.

As she was driven over the edge, she let out a low moan, and gripped Jackson tighter than ever, her breathing hitching in her throat as she came, Jackson following close behind with a gravelly moan that sent shivers down her spine. He rode out their pleasure, his hips moving less rhythmically now that the high was controlling him and weakening his body. "Oh, god," Grace breathed, her eyes opening slowly. Her cheeks were red and sweat coated her brow. Jackson glanced down at her, his muscles weak as he rolled off of her, collapsing beside her as she pulled the blankets up to her chin. She turned onto her side to face him as he dumped the condom in the trashcan beside his bed, smiling when he turned around and met her eyes. "You're incredible," she mumbled, inching closer to him.

* * *

"I love you," he said gently, sitting up and leaning over to his bed side table. He returned to her a second later, a gold-banded ring in his hands. "It's too big for your fingers," he mumbled, "but I bought a chain so you could wear it around your neck..."

Grace smiled widely, breathing in her surprise. "You want me to have it?" she asked, and he nodded gently.

"It was my biological father's," he said softly. She'd never seen this side of him before, even when they were alone... swallowing, Grace glanced up at him.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah... you're all that matters to me, Grace..."

She answered him with a soft, tender kiss that left his lips buzzing, taking the ring from him and admiring it. "Where's the chain? I'll put it on now."

He reached over her and grabbed a small Tiffany's box, opening it to reveal a gold chain. She took it with shaking hands and a small smile on her lips, weaving the chain through the ring's centre before securing it around her neck before reaching up to wipe a tear from her eye. Wordlessly, she nuzzled into his chest, his arms holding her close as she drifted off, one hand still wrapped loosely around the necklace and ring and a small smile still on the brunette's lips.


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: Sorry about the lack of updates lately. I'm back at school and it's crazy! Enjoy this chapter. Only a few more left to go before the story finishes... Maybe a sequel is needed. :p**

* * *

The morning sun warmed Jackson's bedroom the next day and, beneath the covers of his bed, Grace stirred, the light making it impossible for her to open her eyes for at least a minute. She stretched her legs and arms, giving a quiet yawn and rubbing the remains of sleep from her eyes. She was still stark naked from the events of last night and at this realisation, a deep blush coloured her cheeks though Jackson hadn't even stirred yet. She located her underwear, sliding them on underneath the covers before finding the sweatshirt Jackson had lent her and pulling it over her head. Her hair was un-brushed and knotted, her eyes were swollen from sleep… but she was _happy._

Beside her, Jackson gave a groan and sleepily laced an arm around Grace's waist, pulling her back to him without opening his eyes. She chuckled, allowing herself to be tugged back to the warmth of his embrace. "Good morning, sleepy head," she crooned softly, her nose brushing his as she tugged the sheets back up around them. He opened one eye, wincing at the sun hitting his face.

"Why are you awake so early?" he asked, voice gravelly and low from sleep. It sent a shiver down Grace's spine.

"It's lunch time," Grace mumbled, glancing at the clock on his bedside table. His room was littered with various articles of clothing and one condom wrapper. She bit her lip at the sight of it, fighting back a grin as she touched a hand to her chest where Jackson's ring was sat underneath the sweater on the gold chain, cool against her skin. Jackson opened his other eye, quirking a brow at her.

"Seriously?" he asked, blinking. "Lunch time?"

Grace laughed, nodding. "Yeah, lunch time. Come on lazy bones."

"I don't want to leave the bed," he grumbled, burying his face in the pillow. Grace nudged him.

"You have a lacrosse practice in an hour," she said, urging him to move his ass. She was right – he did have a lacrosse practice in an hour. He sighed, turning to face her as he curled into a ball. It was so warm in bed, and so cold out there… she smiled softly, licking her lips before giving him a soft kiss on the lips. "Is that enough motivation for you?" she asked, and he nodded gingerly.

"Fine, I'll get up."

"And shower?"

"And shower."

"And take me home so I can get changed into my own clothes?"

Jackson pouted playfully. "But you look better in mine…"

She glanced down at the sweatshirt and shrugged slightly, quite liking the warmth and feint smell of him lingering on the material... paired with a pair of her own jeans, it wouldn't be so bad. "I'll keep the sweatshirt on because it smells like you," she said softly, and he grinned.

He stretched out, sighing contentedly. Jackson hadn't really known happiness in a long, long time… but now, everything was perfect. He had Grace and nothing else really mattered to him. "Are you going to come shower with me?"

Grace glanced over at him, raising an eyebrow. "If you promise to win today," she teased. Jackson rolled his eyes playfully, kicking back his covers before flinging his legs over the side of his bed, grabbing his dressing gown and slipping it on. He glanced back at Grace, smirking widely.

"Come on then, we'll be late."

She obediently followed, a grin on her features.

* * *

They arrived at the lacrosse practice around forty-five minutes later, and Grace was sure she was positively glowing. Wearing Jackson's sweat shirt and a pair of her tight black jeans, she didn't exactly look a picture… but she felt wonderful. She scanned the crowd for Scott or Stiles, seeing them sitting on the bench together as the rest of the team ran around on the field, preparing for the game. "Hi, guys," Grace greeted, Jackson disappearing to go the locker room and change. Both boys glanced up at her and smiled.

"Morning," Stiles said, grinning. "You were awesome last night, by the way."

Grace flushed, laughing. "Yeah, I'm pretty good at setting alpha werewolves on fire."

"Then we shouldn't have a problem with Derek," Scott murmured. Grace chuckled.

"So… Derek's our alpha, now," Grace said quietly. She wasn't sure how she felt about this… Derek wasn't a bad guy, but he wasn't exactly a saint either. Grace wasn't sure when she had decided, but she would be a part of Derek's pack. She _wanted _to be stronger, better, faster… she needed to be if she was to protect the people she loved most in the world. Her mother, her brother… Jackson. Of course, Grace wouldn't kill anyone that didn't deserve to be killed and she certainly wouldn't go around willy-nilly and advise that people take the bite.

"He's not my alpha," Scott snapped, and Grace frowned slightly.

"Omegas don't survive, Scott," Grace said gently. He turned to her, eyes flaring yellow.

"So what, Derek's your alpha now? He took away my chance at being normal again!"

"And what about my chance, Scott?" Grace demanded, anger flaring inside of her. "You didn't once think that I would have liked to be normal again too! I have a boyfriend, a life… I'm just as important as you! You were too selfish to even consider me last night. It was all about you!"

McCall blinked, and Grace immediately felt guilty. But it wasn't as though she was lying… last night, when Scott had begged Derek to let him kill Peter, Grace had felt hurt if nothing else. He hadn't even glanced her way, hadn't asked if she wanted to kill Peter with him. No, her cure didn't matter, it was the Scott and Allison show. Guilty, Grace glanced away from Scott and stared at her hands, Stiles rendered speechless between the two of them.

"I'm sorry, Grace," Scott said softly, and the brunette shrugged her shoulders, finding that she wasn't quite ready to forgive him.

"It's just nice to know that you think of me every now and then, Scott," she muttered, standing up and walking toward the bleachers. In her books, sorry didn't excuse the fact that Scott hadn't even thought of her once. Allison was more important than a best friend of years and years and it stung like crazy. The brunette decided to just focus all her attention on Jackson – who, of course, trained incredibly. She couldn't help but be proud.

* * *

When Grace arrived home that afternoon, Clara rushed to her and enveloped her in a hug. The girl tried not to wince at the pain shooting through her as her mother hit her wounds and she kept a straight face, definitely not ready to tell her mom what had happened. "Where have you been?" Clara demanded. Her daughter had returned home with nothing but the clothes on her back.

"I was at Allison's, I told you," Grace said, furrowing her eyebrows.

"Grace, Lydia was practically torn to shreds last night at that dance, I was trying to call you all morning!"

Grace's eyes widened as she realised she'd left her phone somewhere out in the woods. "Crap! I lost my phone, mom, when I was carrying Lydia back to…" her throat went thick and she trailed off. Her mom's face softened and she sighed, running her hand through her hair.

"I'll get you a new one as soon as I can," she sighed, feeling sorry for her daughter. That was when Grace noticed the feint smell of perfume, the light layer of make-up on her mother's face. She frowned, looking Clara up and down and noticing the woman was in what she dubbed her 'evening clothes'.

"Where are you going tonight?" Grace asked, and her mother flushed and tried to fight a smile.

"I've been asked on a date," she revealed, and Grace's eyebrows shot up.

"Who by?" Grace demanded, suddenly protective of her mother. Clara chuckled.

"Calm down – you like him, I know that. You did grow up with his son, after all…"

"You're seeing _Sheriff Stilinski_ tonight?" Grace cried in disbelief, and Clara nodded and smiled. The woman was quite proud, really, because the last three years had been the loneliest of any in her life… and why couldn't she enjoy a night out with an old friend? Despite the fact that their outing wasn't completely platonic, Clara still felt casual about it. She didn't need to be something else around the sheriff – who she argued wasn't actually called sheriff, he was called Paul Stilinski – and she felt comfortable with him. So why couldn't they pursue certain sparks?

Grace wondered how Stiles would feel about what was happening. She made a note to call him later and ask how he was, but for now, her mother was her attention. "So what brought this on?" Grace asked, more curious than anything. Her mother shrugged.

"We went out for friendly drinks last night while you kids were at prom, and we got talking for the first time in years and I guess we just… opened up about things. I talked about Alexander and he talked about Stiles' mother and it was nice."

"Oh, mom, I'm so happy for you both – really. That's great. It seems like everybody is getting somebody. This is weird… but now Roman just needs a girlfriend and we're all set to go! Oh, but Stiles… maybe he'll like Erica…"

Clara narrowed her eyes. "No match-making, Grace Amelia Hart."

"Why not?" she demanded and her mother gave her a look of disdain.

"Match-making never works, take it from me. And Roman's moving in here, by the way. So could you make sure the spare rooms clean? He'll be here later tonight… apparently Alexander has done a runner and ditched him," she mumbled the last sentence, hatred for Alex seeping through. _If only she knew the real story,_ Grace thought, somewhat bitterly. After killing Peter, both Alexander and the dead Alpha had been dumped in the lake by Derek. He didn't need more murder charges, especially now that he'd actually committed that murder. And plus, Grace was part of his pack, now, so he wouldn't let her be caught for anything.

"I'll get his room in order," Grace said, nodding. She had nothing better to do, anyway. As a knock sounded at the door, Grace's eyebrows raised at her mother, the pair of them sharing a wide-eyed look before Grace darted at the door, Clara screaming at her not to. She pulled it open quickly, reaching up to clear her hair from her face as she grinned widely at the sheriff, now in casual attire with a nervous look on his face. He raised an eyebrow at Grace, who was panting and grinning like a lunatic, before glancing at Clara behind her who was blushing sheepishly. "Well, sheriff Stilinski, what brings you here, huh?"

The sheriff blinked again. "I- uh…"

"Grace, stop teasing the man would you? Clean Roman's room, have your dinner. I might be home late," Clara interrupted, and Grace chuckled and nodded, moving out of her mother's way and beaming at her.

"Have a good time, you two," she said before her eyes drifted to Stiles, who was climbing out of his father's police car and slinging a bag over his shoulder. He grinned at Grace and waved to her, heading toward the house. Clapping his father on the shoulder, he smiled widely.

"Yeah, old man, have a good time. Don't get too rowdy."

Grace giggled, covering her mouth with her hand and glancing away from the glare her mother gave her. When the parents had left, Grace closed the door behind she and Stiles, stifling a yawn as she made her way back into her room, Stiles following behind. "So Jackson's clothes, huh?" he asked, and she flushed a deep red and didn't look at him.

"Yeah, I slept at his last night," she said nonchalantly.

Stiles' eyes bugged out of his head and he blinked. "I knew there was something different about you! You two totally – oh, god, _gross!_" Stiles gave her a horrified look, feigning mock terror as he covered his mouth and stepped away from her. Grace rolled her eyes, but couldn't fight the smile that played onto her lips. Of course, talking about sex with Stiles should have been weird. But he was one of her oldest friends and she had never been bashful about anything before. Why now?

"Stiles, I'm in love with him," Grace mumbled dreamily, a smile on her lips. "He's so… incredible. How did I get so lucky?"

Stiles scrunched his nose up. "Let's not talk about feelings, thanks."

"I can invite Lydia, Scott, Allison, Jackson and Danny over tonight if you'd like. We can have a movie night."

Her male friend perked up at the mention of the girl he was utterly in love with, so he nodded eagerly. "Yeah, cool! That's cool!" he agreed, cheeks alight with a flush of red. "I'll go to the store and pick up some food."

Grace nodded, grabbing her laptop from the kitchen table and opening it, logging into Facebook before starting a group chat addressed to the five friends she'd have over. With Roman, that would make… eight of them all together. How perfect was that? Once everyone had replied in the affirmative, the brunette gathered giant pillows, shabby mattresses and large blankets, shoving them all in the living room. The place looked like a giant bed for ten – it looked so comfortable, she could have just laid there and gone to sleep right at that moment.

When Stiles returned, he held three shopping bags worth of things. Energy drinks, crisps, candy, chocolate, soft drink and even a bottle of wine that Grace wondered about. How had he managed that one? Shrugging, Grace dumped everything in the living room and flopped onto the couch, pulling one of the blankets to her chin. Though she was still in Jackson's sweater, she had changed her jeans for her sweat pants and _still_ managed to clean Roman's room efficiently before Stiles returned. Apparently, he'd wanted to pick out some of Lydia's favourites – how he knew what her favourites were was beyond Grace.

After talking about nothing in particular with Stiles for a short while, the clock ticked over to six pm – the time that Grace had told her friends to come. She heard two cars pull up in the drive way, but no one knocked on the door. Furrowing her eyebrows, she held up a hand to shush Stiles and strain her ears. Outside, she could hear Roman and… was that Danny? They were talking lightly, getting to know each other as they hesitated outside of the front door, neither apparently wanting to knock.

Roman ran a hand through his sandy blonde hair as he glanced at the male before him. Danny was absolutely gorgeous, he thought, and though he'd suppressed feelings toward other males for years, this one… well, this one was different. Roman had to admire the confident air around the boy, the way he tilted his head to the side as Roman spoke and the way his wide, brown eyes lingered on him just a second too long to be innocent. Swallowing, the male glanced at Danny, reaching up to nervously rub the back of his neck before he reached out to knock on the door. "So how do you know Grace?" he asked, and Danny shrugged his shoulders.

"She's dating my best friend. And she's kind of always been… there, I guess, since she's been friends with Scott and Stiles for a few years now. She's also in some of my classes."

Roman nodded, smiling at the boy before him. "What about you? How do you know Grace?" Danny asked, curious. He'd never seen this boy before – he'd certainly have remembered if he had. Roman gave a shrug that mimicked Danny's, as though casual about the subject.

"I'm her brother."

Danny blinked. "I've never seen you around here before."

Managing a smile, Roman glanced back at Danny. "Let's just say that's a story for another time," he murmured, and Danny's smile widened slightly as the other male reached out and knocked on the door, which opened almost immediately to reveal a happy-looking, sweat-wearing Grace. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, subconsciously fingering the ring around her neck.

"I thought I heard voices!" she chirped, opening the door wide enough for the males to enter. Roman stepped back, gesturing for Danny to enter first – Danny could have sworn if it weren't for the skin tone he'd inherited from his Hawaiian heritage, Roman and Grace would have known he was blushing profoundly. He stepped inside the house, glancing around and almost rolling his eyes at Stiles sitting overly-happily on the couch.

"Danny, hey there! Oh, and Roman, too. Great! We have company. Is Lydia here yet?" Stiles asked, looking like something similar to an excited puppy with his elbows resting on the top of the couch, chin in his hands. The strawberry blonde had been granted permission from the doctors to leave the hospital for the night so long as she was returned by lunch time the next day, and Stiles was over the moon. Danny could practically see a tail wagging behind the boy. Grace followed the two males into the living room, the ever perfect hostess as she took their coats – Roman couldn't help but admire the lacrosse player build that Danny had… toned arms, a broad chest for tackles, long and slender fingers and a _great _butt. The blonde had to curse himself at that last thought, looking away and allowing Grace to steal his attention as Danny chatted with Scott.

"Your room is made up," his sister told him, and he gave a small smile.

"Cool. Thanks Grace…"

The brunette shrugged and smiled. "You get to make up the last three years with expensive gifts and when you're legal, you can buy me alcohol. So it's cool."

Roman snorted, shaking his head. "No way," he replied, and Grace pouted.

"But…"

"No."

His sister leant forward and nudged him gently, glancing back at Danny. "You like him, do you?" she asked, and Roman stepped back and blinked. He had never told Grace about the… feelings… he had for certain straight males he'd known, and he hadn't been planning on it. She gave a snort of laughter at his reaction. "Your heart was beating like a drum when you were talking to him," she told him, and he flushed red, thankful that Danny wasn't paying attention. "He's single," Grace added. "And gay."

"I'm not g-"

"Bullshit!"

"Grace-"

"I love you, Roman, gay or straight. So just enjoy tonight, flirt your heart out… I know you want to."

The boy gave his sister a look that could only be described as relief. That had gone better than he could have ever asked for. When Grace disappeared to answer the door again, Roman kicked his shoes off and joined Danny on one of the mattresses, sitting close and starting small-talk with the other male. Jackson had arrived alone and as soon as he saw Grace, he wrapped her in a tight hug, kissing whatever skin he could reach (which happened to be her pulse point beneath her ear where she was incredibly ticklish). She pushed him away, giggling as she bit her lower lip. "Why so affectionate?" she asked, and he pouted playfully.

"It's been like, three hours since I've seen you," he murmured. "Never again."

"You're such a baby," Grace teased, kissing his nose. "Come on," she said, grabbing his hand and leading him into the living room. "Make yourself comfortable, Scott just arrived with Lydia and Allison."

It didn't take long for everyone to get settled and despite the slightly awkward atmosphere, Lydia protesting against Stiles having his arm around her and Danny and Roman glancing at each other and smiling every now and then; it was a really peaceful night. Grace passed around food and wine before snuggling into Jackson's chest, his arm slung around her as _The Hunger Games_ began. Halfway through the movie, Lydia grew bored of Scott and Allison making out and pretending to watch the movie. "We should play truth or dare," the strawberry blonde announced, capturing everyone's attention. Eyes shifted to Grace and she shrugged her shoulders.

"I don't mind. But Lydia, you can go first."

"Truth or dare, Grace?" Lydia asked, smirking.

"Truth," Grace replied after a moment of thought.

"First kiss?"

Jackson glanced at her, curious, and she flushed red. "It was Scott in fifth grade when I was eleven," she admitted, ducking her head. "And it was because he bought me Reece's."

Scott rolled his eyes while Allison giggled, covering her mouth with her hand. Jackson almost looked surprised. "I thought I was your first kiss?"

"Our first kiss was when we were fifteen."

"You were my first kiss!" Jackson said, somewhat defensively. "I thought I was yours!"

Lydia blinked. "She was your first kiss? I thought I was."

"We dated before you and I dated," Jackson told Lydia. She narrowed her eyes.

"You said I was your first girlfriend."

"It was a secret relationship," Grace supplied, shrugging.

"What?" Stiles asked, suddenly interested. "Why was it secret? And I'm your best friend, why didn't I know about it?"

Danny glanced over, pausing his conversation with Roman. "I'm Jackson's best friend and I knew about them dating."

Slapping Jackson's arm half-heartedly, Grace scoffed at her boyfriend. "I wasn't allowed to tell, but you were?" she demanded.

"Why was it a secret?" Stiles demanded, wanting answers. Grace shrugged.

"Jackson cared more about his image then me," she teased, and he rolled his eyes.

"Alright, so maybe I was kind of an ass."

Lydia snorted. "A total ass," she muttered. Jackson glared at her.

"Before we start tearing each other's heads off, can we be quiet?" Grace asked, and the room fell silent and with all eyes on her, she felt suddenly flustered. "What?!"

Scott sniggered. "Idiot, it's your turn to truth-or-dare someone."

Grace gave her friend a sneer before turning to Lydia. She didn't mean to pick the person that had chosen her, but she wanted revenge. And besides, Grace was a total matchmaker. If things went to plan, Lydia would be all over Stiles like crazy. "Lydia, truth or dare?"

Stiles opened his mouth to protest the back-and-forth actions between the two girls, but Lydia just pressed her bubble-gum lips together and smirked. "Dare," she confirmed, looking danger in the eye. Grace chuckled.

"Make out with Stiles."

A dorky grin crossed Stiles' face and Lydia's expression darkened, though she held her head high. "Well, you know I never back out from a dare," she muttered, turning toward Stiles and shrugging her shoulders. "Here goes nothing."

She grabbed him and pulled him forward to place a fierce kiss on his lips and, after a moment of flustering, Stiles returned the kiss with just as much passion as Lydia. It was like a battle for dominance though everyone knew Lydia would win, but everyone couldn't help staring at Stiles wide-eyed. Who knew he had it in him? After a minute, they pulled away, Lydia staring at her partner with surprise.

"That wasn't as bad as I thought."

Stiles winked, smirking though his face was reddened. "Well there you go."

Lydia wasn't entirely sure _what_ that fluttery feeling in her stomach was…


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: I'll admit that I lost my muse for this story for a while and I do apologise. I've missed Gracie and Jackson! This is the LAST CHAPTER of Angels And Werewolves, I repeat, this is THE LAST CHAPTER OF ANGELS AND WEREWOLVES. Do you want a sequel? I do! The sequel titled "Lay Me Down" will be uploaded in just a few days depending on the reviews this chapter gets. Also, you guys should check out the playlist I linked on my profile – the songs reminded me so much of Whittehart.**

* * *

A few days later in her bedroom, Grace Hart sighed, running her hand through her newly cut hair. It was choppy and shoulder length now, falling around her face in waves. She'd wanted to cut it for a while now, but her mother had always loved her hair. But it was time for a change, the brunette reminded herself, and _she_ really liked it. It didn't look half bad. She pursed her lips, posing a moment for the mirror before laughing at how stupid she looked. Despite her transformation from normal teenager to werewolf, Grace was... well, Grace was happy. And it was a nice feeling, being in control of herself despite her abilities and being able to love someone without the consequences that Scott seemed to face with Allison daily.

Turning from her mirror, Grace's eyes fell on a figure sitting in her desk chair and she jumped, locking eyes with Derek before spitting a half-hearted curse at him. "Jesus Christ, Derek, you scared the shit out of me." The wolf seemed vaguely amused, but something told Grace that he wasn't here just for a casual visit and some milk and cookies. "What's up?" she asked, and Derek seemed to furrow his eyebrows slightly, as though unsure he should talk to her. At this expression, Grace turned on the attitude, placing her hands on her hips and giving the alpha a steely glare.

"Scott doesn't want to be a part of this pack," Derek stated, and Grace nodded. She had already known that much. The brunette raised an eyebrow, encouraging Captain Sour to continue. "Are you going to do that same thing? Because you know that omega's-"

"Rarely survive. I know, Derek, Scott gave me the werewolf one-oh-one when he found out that I'm a half dog, too." Grace folded her arms over her chest and Derek looked at her expectantly. "No, I'm not going to be an omega. But I'm telling you Derek, I want to live my life as a normal teenager. I won't be killing people, I want to be _normal." _She noticed Derek visibly stiffening at her words, as though the concept of her being just a teenager was incredibly horrific.

"You're not a 'normal teenager', Grace, you are a werewolf. What makes you think what happened to Scott won't happen to you? You're going to excel in your sports, you're going to be unable control yourself when you're _with_ Jackson," he said, implying something that Grace wished he hadn't. Their sex life was none of Derek's concern. "You're either one-hundred percent with me or not, Grace."

At this, Grace began to fume. Who the hell did Derek think he was, ordering her around, trying to change her life? He was her alpha, not her god damn father – and Grace doubted that her father would have been able to control her either. The memory of Alexander made the brunette slightly angrier and she wished Derek would just go away. Gritting her teeth, Grace stepped forward, claws sprouting from her fingertips as she held her hand out. "You'd better shut up, Derek," she warned, though she knew the threat was somewhat empty. Derek could overpower her in seconds.

"You're never going to be normal again, Grace," Derek continued and Grace suspected it was his mission; getting Grace stirred up and angry. "Jackson will leave you; you're going to have to kill people. You will never be normal again."

"Shut up!" Grace screamed, grabbing and hurling the closest object she could find, which happened to be a lamp. It hit Derek, shattering over his chest with no effect whatsoever. She could feel herself slipping, losing control as her heartbeat quickened and he hands curled into fists, her claws digging into her palms and drawing blood. She turned away from the alpha, who was clutching her phone in his hand. He tossed it on the bed when the doorknob to her bedroom door turned and the figure on the other side allowed themselves into Grace's room. In a panicked haze, Grace growled and swiped at the figure, who cried out in pain as her claws connected with their cheek. It wasn't a harsh blow, but Grace could immediately smell the blood and she _knew_ who'd she'd hurt.

"Jackson," she barely managed the word, staring at the teenager with wide eyes, her wolf features immediately disappearing. "Oh god, oh god," she muttered, beginning to feel sick. Jackson looked at her, scared and stunned by the blow before Derek snapped at him.

"Get out!" the alpha commanded, and Jackson did as he was told, unable to even utter a word before he was out the door and heading downstairs. Grace heard his car start, her breathing becoming laboured and heavy.

"Why was he here?" she demanded, turning to Derek. He nodded at the phone on her bed.

"I messaged him from your phone and told him to come here. You need to know that you can't change what you are. No matter how normal you pretend to be."

"Get out!" the brunette ordered, tears flooding her brown eyes. "Get the hell out of my house, and stay out, Derek."

He knew she was utterly serious by the harsh tone of her voice, the way she went from a wavering, teary-eyed child to a commanding woman with a gaze that could cause him to burst into flames. She bit down hard on her tongue to control herself, allowing herself to breath once the alpha had disappeared out of her window and finally left. So she'd managed to destroy everything that she thought she had in a matter of minutes – wouldn't her brother be _proud?_

* * *

Jackson sighed heavily, holding the towel to his face as he sat in his bedroom. It was obvious now even to him what had happened back there – it wasn't Grace who had texted him, but Derek, in hopes that Grace would lash out at him and hurt him. But why would he do that? Jackson gave a hiss as the shallow scratches stung against the antiseptic. What would Derek have to gain by making Grace angry with him? He was the alpha, but Grace wasn't required to be in his pack... wouldn't the man have to suck up to get Grace to stay with him? Since McCall decided he wasn't about to become anyone's 'pet' as he'd so kindly put it when on the phone with Grace just two days ago, Derek really needed pack members. So why was he driving Grace away?

He furrowed his eyebrows, realisation flooding him.

_Derek wanted Grace to think she was a monster._

The alpha wanted Grace – _his _Grace – to think she was some kind of animal, he wanted her to give into the instinct of being cruel and murderous... she wouldn't turn out like that. She _couldn't_ turn out like that. For as long as he'd known her, Grace had been the epitome of innocence. She had always been kind despite how horrid Jackson and Lydia had been to her. She would never hurt anyone – Jackson knew that all too well. He frowned as a knock sounded on his door, glancing up. "Yes?"

The door opened slowly, Jackson knowing exactly who it was. Grace stepped into his room, a forlorn expression on her face. "Grace-" Jackson started, removing the cloth from his face, exposing the four thin, reddened lines down his cheek. The brunette shook her head and raised a hand, cutting him off.

"Listen to me," she stated, folding her arms across her chest. She wasn't confident in what she was about to say – in fact, she was shaking, her voice wavering with every word spoken. "Jackson, we can't be together anymore."

Jackson stood, frowning deeply. "What are you talking about, Grace?"

"I'm saying that I don't want you, I never wanted you." She kept a straight face, but her demeanour of calm and cool seemed to break for just a moment, causing her to bite down harshly on her lip, drawing blood and making her wince.

"You're being stupid," Jackson said, a slight amount of anger in his tone. She couldn't be doing this – he wouldn't let her walk out of this room only to never come back. "It's just a scratch, Grace, it doesn't even hurt. Don't listen to Derek, he's an idiot."

"I don't think you get what I'm saying, Jackson," Grace said, her voice slightly harder. "I never wanted you; I just wanted you to know what it feels like to be deserted by someone you love. Do you know how much you hurt me Jackson? It was time you felt that for yourself. Lydia told me how you treated her horribly before ditching her for me... she encouraged this."

Shaking his head, Jackson stepped forward. "No," he stated, but his voice was weak.

"You're pathetic," Grace snapped, turning to leave. "And now, you're alone."

* * *

His face broke her heart and it was all she could see as she drove to nowhere in particular – Jackson's confused, watery eyes and flushed face, the scratches that she had put there... Grace muffled a sob as she drove, willing herself not to start crying as she realised she was on the road to Derek's house in the middle of the damned woods. She couldn't concentrate on anything – like Derek had said, she was a monster... she could never have a normal life. So why would she try for one? She'd only end up more hurt than before, more angry and upset and confused. She needed Jackson, but she couldn't put him in danger like that again. What if it had been as bad as Scott made her? What if, by accident, Grace doomed Jackson to a life of running from shadows, looking over shoulders? She couldn't deal with that guilt... she'd rather die.

Pulling up to Derek's abandoned house, she wondered why Derek would even want her in his pack. She wasn't exactly the strongest of wolves, especially compared to Scott. Wiping tears from her eyes, Grace stepped out of her car and walked briskly to the front door. The alpha was waiting for her when she pushed open the door, sitting expectantly on the steps. He raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk on his lips. "I was wondering when you'd come by," he said, standing up only to tower over the brunette beneath him.

"I'm not here because I want to be," Grace snapped, angered by his nonchalance toward her. "I'm here because I have _nothing_ left and I have nobody to blame for that but you."

"How do you figure that this is my fault?" Derek asked, slightly amused.

"Because you made me realise that I'm a monster."

"You've been to visit Jackson," Derek stated, and Grace rolled her eyes but felt an angry pang in her chest. She wasn't sure how he could tell, though she guessed it was something to do with the fact that her eyes were reddened and bloodshot from crying. Derek rolled his eyes at her, walking toward her and cupping her cheek, quite affectionate. She'd never known him to be like this with any woman, let alone herself. She frowned, confused. "He's dead weight, Grace, let him go. He'll only drag you down. Jackson can't protect you from anything, not like I can. And I promise you that I will." He smirked and Grace frowned deeper.

Derek Hale sealed his promise with a kiss.


	25. IMPORTANT UPDATE

**IMPORTANT: THE SECOND IN THE ANGELS AND WEREWOLVES SERIES HAS BEEN POSTED.**

I'm so excited for this sequel! It can be found under the titled "_Lay Me Down_" in my stories list.

**ALSO** - Isaac lovers, you should all go check out "_Oh, Lonely Bones_", which is a new Isaac/OC story I'm developing. Please, enjoy these two new stories, I love you guys so much!

**_-All the adoration, Tayla. xxxxxxxx_**


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